Okay, so, turns out I’m in a small, picturesque town near Woodstock, Vermont. Oh, you haven’t heard of it? That’s because NO ONE HAS. Here’s an overview: Hallmark Christmas movies could be, and likely have been, filmed here, everyone is hella perky, and there’s an underlying tinge of weird. I can’t put my finger on it yet, but this place is weird. Like Twin Peaks meets Hallmark without Agent Cooper. And without booze. There’s no booze. I have managed to stave off the worst of the withdrawal symptoms by drinking an insane amount of mouthwash. It’s barely doing the trick, but my breath is so fresh and so clean, clean.
Over the weekend, the LeRoux clan took me shopping. I don’t know why, but I thought it might be fun. It was not. They took me to a place called L.L. Bean. I have never heard of it. It’s dreadful. So many earth tones. And everything is…squishy. I resisted as long as I could, but here I am, dressed head to toe in knits and other natural fibers and – insert shudder – something called a Muck boot. I don’t know what a muck is, but I hate it. They also bought me a pajama onesie with a butt flap that I am 100% not going to wear. Ever.
Yesterday, after the shopping and the forcing me to change who I am as a person, we went sledding. Throwing myself down a mountain actually seemed like a good idea, so, I’ll admit, I had a decent time. After sledding, we went back to the LeRoux estate to roast chestnuts and make gingerbread houses. Look, I don’t care about chestnuts or making houses out of food, but it occupied all the LeRouxs so I was able to sneak away to watch old episodes of Drag Race, which is all I wanted for Christmas to begin with.
So, I’m watching. Alaska is all like, “Hieeeeeeeeeeeeee” when I heard a scraping noise. It was a g-d bear. Like, an actual bear. Nat Geo in my face. So, the bear was licking the window and pushing its ginormous body against the glass. Reader, I screamed. Like a banshee. Because that’s what you do when nothing but a pane of glass separates you and a bear. The LeRouxs came pouring in. They were thrilled. Absolutely thrilled this bear, they called him Thurston, had come to their window. These people are lunatics. Meanwhile, I’m looking for alternative exits. Eventually Thurston went away and everyone returned to their nuts.
I, however, will never be the same. I have a few rules I live by. One of them is don’t trust anyone who hums at you; they are likely planning to kidnap you, stuff you in an old prom dress, make you drink lukewarm tea while they brush your hair, and then murder you. The other rule is do not engage with wild animals. Look, I love animals. I’m wearing one right now. I just prefer for them to stay in their lane, and I promise to stay in mine.
I don’t know if LeRoux is intending to do a Christmas Carol situation but with live animals and weirdos instead of ghosts, but it’s not going to work. Although, I do have to admit, I have not been this comfortable in over a decade.
According to the itinerary, tomorrow is sleigh rides and caroling.