So, it is done. Finished. Over.
After all the excitement and build-up and preparation, it’s now gone. The air beds have been deflated, the turkey has been eaten, the chocolate has been hoarded and everybody has gone home. Well, we’ve gone home, that is. Y’see it was my Mum and Dad who had to inflate the air beds and cook the turkey and provide the hospitality, so after having a house full of people, it must be pretty peaceful for them now.
Yep, Christmas has gone in a flash and now we’ve come to the time of lists. TV will be full of them. Instead of the old films that are aired over Christmas, we’re passing into the phase of 2012 recaps. ’50 Best songs of 2012′, ‘100 Funniest YouTube Clips of 2012’, ’50 most embarrassing celebrity moments of 2102 – that kind of thing. And then life will abruptly return to normal.
Except . . . now my wife has to live with ‘vermin’ in her house.
No, I’m not talking about me.
No, not the children either.
The ‘vermin’ is a little furry thing that sleeps in a cage in the corner of the room and represents a lot of nagging from my daughter.
My wife finally caved-in and agreed to have a hamster.
When we bought it from the shop, my wife curled her lip in disgust at its little paws and twitchy nose. She stepped back in fear when the woman took it from the cage. And she recoiled in horror at the thought of actually touching it. And O-M-G, ‘they can actually escape?’
Honestly, you’d think we were buying a velociraptor.
But I’ve seen her watching it. I’ve seen that expression soften. I’ve even seen her glance into the cage as she passes, to see if it’s awake.
At this rate, Smiffy might break through that tough exterior in . . . I dunno . . . a couple of years.
If he lives that long.