Ho, Ho (Really?), Ho

The 2010 holidays find the Universe, in Her infinite, unfathomable wisdom, sorely testing my will to optimism.

First, ¾ of our kids were away for Christmas. I frequently joke about how much I adore the “empty nest,” but I must fess up--I missed the Christmas morning chaos. There’s something just so wrong about a quiet Christmas. If I’m half the domineering, controlling, guilt-dishing mother I think I am, this will never happen again.

Then, on Christmas day, my back went out. No, I don’t think it was a psychosomatic attempt to rally the troops. I think it was the culmination of physical self-abuse that started with careless interpretive dance at my friend’s October wedding that resulted in a slipped hip, then a complete lack of exercise and the internalizing of mountains of end-of-semester stress, then a marathon 5 days hunched over a table grading final papers, then 2 days of leaning over the dining room table with a hot iron pressing haiku transfers onto t-shirts for Christmas presents. So by early this week, I was no longer able to pick the dog dishes up off the floor. And I have a healthy new appreciation for the muscle groups involved in wiping one’s own arse. I made it in to the chiropractor yesterday, and I had her give me acupuncture for anxiety & stress, just for good measure. I expect to be flexible and euphoric any minute now…

 

Early this week, because I wasn’t having ENOUGH fun, our kitchen drains stopped draining. Ray spent two days on plungers & Drano, and $40 on various length snakes, all to no avail. So today we gave in and called the plumber, who, after several hours, declared the problem a “mystery” and said he’d have to consult his boss. He assured me a fix was possible but would likely involve tearing stuff up, re-routing, cutting into old pipes, installing new pipes, etc. It was, of course, impossible to estimate the costs, he said. So I’ve been doing dishes all day (because dishwashers/drains only stop working once every dish in the house is dirty), one bowlful at a time, then I shuffle, stooped over like some old Grimm Brothers hag, to the bathroom to dump the used dishwater in the toilet (which IS still draining, because the Universe knows better than to REALLY test me).

Did I mention the ice maker stopped working? And I was so counting on the medicinal properties of Bailey’s & eggnog to help straighten up my spine and my sense of humour...

And now Jack Blizzard threatens to blast us with another round of ice, snow and gale-force winds--our third blizzard of the winter so far. If I get snowed in, disrupting my plans to celebrate New Year’s Eve listening to Ray’s band & kissing this foul year good riddance with a pint of Guinness, things could get ugly. But for now, I’m still my usual effervescent Pollyanna self, still filled to brimming with holiday cheer & good will, dammit.