Page 2 of Monster's Naughty List
Pushing to my feet, I lit the vanilla birch scented candle on my kitchen breakfast bar before making my way to the bathroom. I made quick work of depositing my clothes into the hamper while the shower heated up.
As I went through my routine of shampoo, rinse, condition, let it sit while I washed my body, then rinse one last time, all I could think of was the cute naughty or nice list projects I’d done for my kindergarteners to take home to their parents.
They were simple, but adorable. Each featured a picture of the student, centered beneath the headline, “Reasons you love me”. One column was the nice list, and the other was the naughty list. Parents loved updates on how their kids were doing in school, and I figured this would be a fun way to give them those reports. A keepsake of sorts, for them to look back on when their babies were all grown up and graduating high school.
They had been an absolute nightmare to make, with the green and red glitter framing each picture and small pieces of cut up fake pine that made the lines of the list, but when I did crafts, I was dedicated.
People constantly asked me how I stayed so cheerful and optimistic, and honestly, it was because of my job. It satisfied my soul to help these kids begin to learn about life and see the wonder in their eyes with every new task. They had their whole lives ahead of them to become the unique individual they were born to be.
Adults were exhausting, and it seemed a majority of the population was jaded and resentful from the trials of life. Cynical even. Being around that constantly would drain anyone’s energy.
That was exactly why I’d gone into this profession—and why I gave it my all every day. The kids deserved all of my love and support. And encouragement that I believed in them, no matter what—especially when I knew not all of them were getting that at home.
As I turned the shower off and stepped out, I reached for my fluffy ivory towel and wrapped it snugly around myself, thinking about how I should make one of the naughty or nice lists for myself tonight. It was Christmas Eve, after all, and Santa needed to know which list I deserved to be on.
I chuckled to myself, knowing Santa wasn’t real. But what the hell, I’d put my own twist on it.
Heading into my room, I opened the top drawer of my white dresser and pulled out a red silk pajama set that consisted of a spaghetti strap top and shorts. It was more risqué than I usually wore—I had no one to impress—but I had decided tonight was going to be a self-care night. If you looked good, you felt good, right?
Exchanging my towel for the soft set, I quickly flipped my hair over, wrapping my towel around it to dry for a bit. There was nothing worse than wet hair dripping onto your skin. Especially when it was winter time.
Padding back into the bathroom, I wiped the mirror’s fog away with a hand towel until I could see my reflection. Selecting a coffee-scented sheet mask, I opened the package and aligned it in the proper areas, pressing it into place.
Smiling at how much my mood was already improving with just a little TLC, a lightbulb went off in my mind. Spiked eggnog would make this even better. It was a delicacy of the holiday season, in my opinion. Some people had the audacity to say eggnog was gross, and I supposed they were entitled to their wrong opinion, but that just meant more for me at holiday parties.
I hummed “Santa Baby” to myself as I made a beeline for my fridge and poured myself a glass of eggnog. My candle had been burning long enough that its aroma wafted around the space, mixing with the sweet, woody scent of the Christmas tree. My toes curled in delight. The smells, in combination with the fire’s heat, helped put the happiness of the holiday back into my heart.
So what if I’d had yet another epically bad date? At the end of the day, I didn’t need a man to complete me. I just needed to figure out what truly made me happy. As the years went by, I’d come to realize that I’d been so focused on pleasing everyone around me for so long, I didn’t have the slightest idea what I needed to feel fulfilled.
Setting my drink on the coffee table, I clicked the smart TV on and quickly navigated to Spotify, selecting my Christmas playlist and turning the volume to a reasonable level. It was probably best if I didn’t push my luck after snapping back at Doris earlier. She had our landlord’s number on speed dial, and she made good use of it. I wouldn’t want Doris to bother her when she was likely celebrating the holiday with family.
With the music playing in the background, I pulled my craft bins from under the table, intent on making a naughty or nice list to inspire my self-reflection. Admittedly, my methods were a bit unusual, but I was inspired to do a bit of self reflection and discover where I needed to refocus my efforts to bring about this happier version of me.
Maybe the spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Future would visit me and lend a hand, too.I chuckled to myself at that thought.
Opening the lid, I pulled out various jars of glitter and the Elmer’s glue bottle, placing them on top of my coffee table so I could dig for what I needed at the bottom.
Instead of diving in with the glitter and pine, I pulled out the notebook I used to scribble random ideas on, along with a black ballpoint pen. But before I could get truly settled, I needed to put the mess away. Working in a cluttered space was never something I could do, much to my annoyance sometimes.
As I reached for the supplies to replace them in my bin, Doris thudded her broom against my floor once more, yelling about how my mother would be ashamed of the inconsiderate wench she’d raised.
Honestly, her words would have bothered me more if she hadn’t scared the utter daylights out of me with her random banging and caused me to knock my eggnog off the table as I startled. Then, as I tried to save said eggnog, my reflexes made me hit the glitter and glue off as well.
Liquid flew through the air at the same time that caps popped open, the contents of the containers spilling from their homes. I swear, it was like I watched it all in slow motion, and the “No!” I shouted really sounded like “Noooooooo!,” in my head.
But it was over within seconds, and I wasn’t agile enough to prevent the disaster from raining down upon my beige carpet. As I stared at the mess, I knew it would be an absolute nightmare to get it all out of the carpet. The best I could do for now was scrub it with warm water and soap and hope for the best.
As I found myself doing exactly that a few minutes later, I took in the oddly shaped artwork left behind on the beige carpet. “I mean, abstract art is in. Maybe this would be worth thousands,” I quipped out loud, sarcasm dripping from my words.
Not that I really thought that. I just needed to lighten my annoyance at the situation, which had interrupted the excellent mood I’d just been in. I couldn’t catch a freaking break tonight.
When I’d gotten as much of the mess out of the carpet as I could, I growled at the offending red glitter that remained, forming an odd looking star of sorts. Grabbing a paper towel, I tossed it over the remnants.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?I’d try to implement that tactic, but I wasn’t sure how long my brain would allow it.
Taking in a deep breath, I folded my legs beneath me as I sat on the sofa and grabbed my pen and notebook. Flipping open to a new page, I quickly scrawled across the top: “Naughty or Nice: Which am I?”
The question was really geared more towards how I treated myself than whether I was a good or bad person. Like, it was naughty for me to keep pouring from my own empty cup for others.
