You know how certain people love the holidays? Decorating their houses and baking cookies and shopping for gifts with joy in their hearts? I call them Christmas Elves.
Looking for the opposite. Someone who decorates the bare minimum. Curses each cookie baked. Shops with rage in her heart. Christmas cards? Eff that.
I’m starting to become one of whatever-you–call-them. My mother was one. Aunt Sage defines the term.
Put up the ceramic tree. DONE. She’s diabetic so no damn cookies. Shopping? Well, she shops. “Great, a new boyfriend. I guess I have to get him a gift!” “Oh, you’re back in the family? Here’s some money. Buy your own damn gifts and wrap them and bring them with you on Christmas Day.” And thank me.
I envision her has a mix of Grumpy Cat (which would piss her off b/c she loathes cats) and Queen Elizabeth. You know, dressed in perfect old lady clothes with pursed lips and judgey expression on her face.
Name that Christmas Grump. Go!