It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Or The Time When I Most Wish I Had a Prescription for Something More Intense Than Vodka. One of Those.

I’m fairly certain that “happy holidays” is an oxymoron.  At least it is when you have to juggle FOUR sets (yes, SETS, not individual people) of parents (which pretty much makes me want to punch myself for all the times I bitched about dealing with only my TWO) and trying to please everyone (has anyone else noticed my overusage of parentheses yet?).

You’d think the source of my anxiety would be the unknowns, aka Not My Side of the Family.  Oh, no.  I like to wipe my memory clean each January so that by the time the holidays roll around again I am genuinely shocked that I am pissed off again.  I’m so dumb it’s adorable!

Anyway, I am writing this from my dad’s house where I have holed up in the office/guest room in order to cool off from a Grade A Hissy Fit.  I stomped off around the time my dad made me cry over the age-old dispute of “Who is right?”  (Spoiler alert: CKD is NOT right.  Ever.  No, just stop talking.)  It’s like 1994 up in here!  I am not exactly proud of this ridiculous behavior but leaving the room to cool off (and, you know, blog and engage in the DeFazio family ritual of Conflict Avoidance and Resentment) seemed less immature than storming out of the house or screaming at my dad in front of Bubba.  So…yay me?  No?  Yeah, I agree.

For those of you playing the home game, not only are my feelings always wrong (I will cop to irrational or immature but wrong?  No.), but I understand nothing about the way the world works and must apologize when my feelings are hurt. 

In other news I got a sweet new black wool coat for Christmas and am exceedingly thrilled about it.  So I’ve got that going for me.  Which is nice.


2 thoughts on “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. Or The Time When I Most Wish I Had a Prescription for Something More Intense Than Vodka. One of Those.

  1. Holy smokes, Batman! I have the SAME argument with MY father. All. the. time. Thanksgiving’s was particularly bad, which made for an awkward Christmas, considering we still haven’t recovered from the Turkey Blowout and barely said two words to each other. Yeah, this year’s Christmas trip up north was the shortest ever: one drunken Xmas Eve night at my brothers (sans parents–it was awesome) and one awkward night at my parents’ place. I got the hell outta there as early as I could have on the 26th. “Happy holidays” is an oxymoron, indeed. Glad you got a sweet new coat, though! I got a fab cashmere sweater.

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