All the turkey is gone. Christmas has come and gone with the inevitable feeling of anticlimax. Weeks and weeks of build up just lead to a living room floor covered with bits of wrapping paper. Wrapping paper you've spent hours sitting cross-legged on the floor putting on, and ultimately giving yourself either arthritis or thrombosis, just for some snotty-nosed breadsnatcher to rip it off and chuck it on the floor.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed Christmas, I love seeing my kids' faces as they open their presents. I love Christmas dinner , I love spending time around a table full of nice food (even if there isn't any dead pig-related produce) with my missus and kids whilst wearing stupid paper hats. Hats which remind me that I have some kind of mutated giant cranium ( like the Tefal men or the Hulk's nemesis, the Leader) because I've never got one to fit me, ever. They always rip down the seam. I love and appreciate the thought and work and effort my better half has put in to making sure my kids and I have a nice day. I hope she appreciates similar (if not so kitchen-y) efforts I've made. Like not shouting at the telly like usual.
Christmas tends to be the time of year my family tell me I smell bad. I was given shower gel and shaving gel by my good lady, my daughter bought me a can of Marvel Super Heroes foam soap, which I thought would probably smell like Matt Murdoch's crotch after a particularly gruelling swing around Hell's Kitchen on a summer's day, but actually smells quite nice, even if the actual point of foam soap escapes me. I was also bought socks from M&S which, apparently, have special technology in them to stop your feet from smelling. Another subtle hint there, from the people that are supposed to love me, that I stink. Also, these socks have the days of the week embroidered on them, so I know how many days it's been since I last had a bath. (Interestingly, the socks had a sticker on them saying "Special Offer! Two Pairs Free!" which got me thinking; Before they implemented the offer, did Saturday and Sunday not exist? Or is it just me who dares to wear socks on the weekend?)
Christmas also has other pitfalls, i.e. relatives. There are the ones that don't make any contact at all and upset you with their indifference to you at this time of year. At the other end of the scale there are those who you wish would just fuck off and leave you alone. Those people you are related to because your partner is related to them, and even she doesn't particularly like them, either, but we feel obliged to either go to their houses or let them come to ours. I know it sounds ungrateful, as they do want to see us and give us our gifts, but I could really do without listening to my Mother-In-Law fart loudly on Boxing Day. Saying that, I could really do without listening to my Mother-In-Law at all. (I might tell you all about my barmy M-i-L one day. There is a lot of material there. I'm just worried she might chance upon this blog one day, and then come flying around on her broomstick and zap me into a frog-shaped creature.)
Generally, 2006 was a crappy year and I'm glad it's nearly finished. With my new job starting in January, a job I've wanted to do my whole life, I'm hoping 2007 wil be a good 'un. Here's hoping you lot have a great New Year also.
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2 comments:
We got some of those Days Of The Week socks here as well. We're sharing them so now we never know what bloody day it's meant to be.
Happy New year, Dan.
I was about to say that one of the good things about being heterosexual is that my partner doesn't pinch my clothes. But then I thought about it and it's obviously a lie.
One of the few things she doesn't pinch are my socks, because she's a lot smaller than me, and my socks would hang off her, and you'd have to be quite brave to go near my sock drawer.
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