Wednesday, December 21, 2011


Okay. So... I freaked out a little.

In recent years we (the husband and I) had decided that Christmas eve and morning would be a (nuclear) family only occasion. We would wear our pajamas, we would act silly, we would not tidy. We would enjoy each other, and the prospect of not having to do dishes.

A visitor* would mean changes. A visitor would mean I'd feel obligated to clean the bathroom. I would feel like we shouldn't use paper plates on Christmas. I would feel like I had to put a bra on.

There are just some people that I have trouble being myself in front of; and it was one of those people who was going to land on my doorstep on Christmas eve. Sitting in a corner, biting my tongue and trying not to be noticed isn't really my idea of a merry Christmas.

Apparently, Via Rail also prefers more than a week's notice from Christmas travelers; tickets have been sold out for weeks. There will be no visitor.


Of course, I feel like a total jerk for my immediate panic on hearing that she would be coming. And my tears of relief upon hearing that she wasn't.

So it's only right that instead, I shall be visited by the plague.

As long as I don't end up in the hospital**, or cleaning vomit out of my ear, I'm calling it a win.

*I hasten to say that while this particular visitor would have unsettled me more than most, I would rather not have ANYONE over on Christmas. Call me greedy, but I want a couple of days all to myself.
**Christmas 2010.


  1. I completely concur with your assessment of Christmas day, and find you not at all greedy.

  2. We're making football food for Christmas. Pajamas optional. I like how you think.

  3. Pajamas and paper plates, all the way. My Christmas present to myself: I don't have to do dishes!