This party, that party, office party, her office party, neighbours getting together, family demands. Have a drink, be sociable, have another? That’s why there are cabs. You’re just walking down the street, no worries.
Right. Now tell that to Mr. Me and why he’s gone on strike. Explain this to the wife that no it’s not because so-in-so was hanging out of her dress. Was skinnier. Was make-up perfect. That I do find her adorable in sweats...adorable is sexy, too.
Mr. Me won’t work when the booze rules over the blood. When the stress of holiday spending and behaving but being “fun” at the office party rules the mind more than “damn she wants to do _____.”
Muscles are tired from lugging a frozen turkey carcass in and out of too deep baskets and freezers. Bags of potatoes have gained weight during this month. How many bags of frozen peas do we really need?
Pass the antacids, yeah I overate again. Yeah, that dip was a tad spicy...you going to be long in the bathroom?
Home. Eve visiting is done. Gifts wrapped. Food bought and prepped. Turkey’s bathed and waiting. Kids sleeping. Cat’s out of tree and locked way with kids. Dog is passed out.
Damn, how did she wrap that dollhouse? Why didn’t I think of taking the batteries out of that insane noise machine?
Looks like her neck’s a little stiff. She’s the perfect cuddle fit.
Oh, hello Mr. Me.
Okay, if he’s home by six we can make it to the neighbours before heading to... School concert is at ten, should only be an hour or so, I should make it to the store by lunch, a quick shop around and back home to meet the kids at three. It’ll have to be take out so I have time to dress for... Cranberry sauce or jelly? If I microwave steam the veggies that’ll leave one burner free for... Maybe I should make the potatoes early and reheat, no...
Where’s the tape? I know we have at least five rolls of it. Wrap and gift bag or just in gift bag. Bow or ribbon, do I really need to use any?
What was that hug for? He really can’t be thinking of...there’s no time.
Great! Just great! I go to all this effort to find this stupid Santa helper costume, shave the legs even, and he passes out snoring.
How could he not have seen her? Her boobs entered the room before she did. That dress was painted on.
O.M.G. what is that smell!
Hmmm, so what if he can’t find the pop behind the juice, he always finds the spot that needs rubbing. Whew. Can I just stay here snuggled up and to heck with the frigg’n ugly turkey?
Damn, this nightgown is uncomfortable, feel like I’m a wrapped pastry hor d’oeuvres.
Ohhh, well, hmm, yeah, that’s another spot needing...