The plight before Christmas

Family Man


 

 

Moving furniture out of the house. Bringing in folding tables and chairs. A full day of cleaning. Loads of cooking. More and more cleaning. That’s Christmas Eve to my wife and me.

One of my cousins called and had the audacity to ask if we’d give all that up to come over to her house instead.

When families set out to gather for the holidays, they typically hope for a great time. I’ve got news for you—not everyone gets to do the brunt of the work. I’m not trying to brag or be showy. I’m just saying my wife and I are usually the ones who get to pick up after everyone year after year, and we love it.

Friends and family leave unfinished plates of food and half-empty drinks on anything that’s flat, including our laps (if they ever catch the two of us sitting), and they spill desserts on our carpets and walk all over it so it’s harder to get out.

Yes, my wife and I are the lucky candidates who get to clean up all that mess. And my cousin expects us to leave all that behind so she and her family can have all the fun?

Yeah, right!

“You may want to serve dinner soon,” our guests are usually telling us. “Everyone’s starting to dig into your fridge and cupboards for something to eat.”

Then there’s, “Was that crystal bowl you had on the coffee table very important? Here’s a piece of it. The rest of it’s all over the backyard patio and the dog is starting to eat it.”

Those are just a few of our favorite things.

Maybe my wife is willing to give all that up. I wonder if she really gets it. I have a feeling she thinks sitting back, eating, opening gifts, relaxing and then jumping in the car and leaving the mess behind is a good time.

Sounds awful to me.

Knowing my cousin, she probably won’t even let us take part in any of the holiday chores or stress at her place. She and her greedy family will hog it all for themselves.

Do we stay or do we go? Why do I have to be put in these corners? I love that my cousin invited my family and me to her house, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful by saying no, but let’s face it—I knew from the beginning I was going to give in and say yes.

I suppose I can miss out on the fun this year, and my wife and I can just plan really big for next Christmas Eve at our house. Ah, next year will be a big mess to clean up! I can hardly wait.

I know—I probably seem selfish. But is it so bad to want what I love so much?

To prove I’m a good sport, I’ll do nothing this Christmas Eve at my cousin’s place. I’ll sit back, eat, converse with others, leave my unfinished plates of food and half-empty drinks on any flat surface I can find, including my cousin’s lap (if I ever catch her sitting), and I might even spill desserts on the carpet and grind it into the microfibers. Some very fortunate person—probably my cousin or one of her kids—will get to clean it up.

I won’t even offer to help. I won’t lift a finger. I will simply be a guest.

In real life, when my cousin called and said, “Hey, do you wanna—” I cut her off right there and said, “We’d love to come over for Christmas Eve. What time do you want us there?”

Email Picarella at michael. picarella@gmail.com. To read more of his stories, pick up his book, “Everything Ever After,” at www.MichaelPicarella.com.


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