The Death of Christmas
Tomorrow Stark and I have to buckle down and finally take down our Christmas decorations. I know, I know, it’s the end of January already. But I am encouraged by the knowledge that no one else in our building has been on the ball, either.
I found the evidence of a Christmas tree corpse having been dragged down the stairs last week:
And this stuck to the door where all the pine needles were littered:


1 comment
I love “To Lover From Fighter.” I feel like I saw that greeting on the window without any writing, so I think that was an improvisation.
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