Martha Who's Itinerary For an Eventful Week before Christmas
THURSDAY AFTERNOON: In-laws arrive early for a visit with their grand-daughter. Arrived early because ice storm is expected for Friday (the originally scheduled start to their visit). Outwardly, make feeble apologies about the cleanliness of the house and the lack of anything in the refrigerator. Inwardly, beat yourself like a red-headed stepchild for not keeping up with the family "daily chores" task list, and not having a secret bunker of artisinal cheese and Napa Pinot for those unexpected guests.
THURSDAY EVENING: Behold joyous Christmas Miracles! Mother in Law has made dinner for everyone, and has started a load of granddaughter's laundry.
LATER THURSDAY EVENING: Father in Law interrupts the Apprentice Live Finale to report a small pool of water on the basement floor near the washing machine. Pause live television (thank you, TiVo) and gather around said pool. If not seeing any drips, agree to re-assess the situation and call a plumber if needed in the AM. Toss the dice in the "Maybe it will Just Go Away" gamble.
FRIDAY EARLY MORNING: Lose the gamble. Small pool of water has not only NOT gone away, but appears to be increasing slowly after the round of morning showers. Still no dripping can be seen. Spend the morning searching for a plumber from the yellow pages who can make a last minute emergency call in the middle of a wicked snow storm. Find one and agree to sell second-born child in exchange for a guaranteed appointment time.
FRIDAY LATE MORNING: Watch the wicked snow storm turn into a wicked ice storm before your very eyes. Make the game time decision not to send toddler to daycare. Grandparents offer to babysit anyway.
FRIDAY MID-DAY: Watch in horror as the plumber tells you that the water on the floor is not dripping from a leaky pipe, but, in fact, rising up from below the house from the master sewer drain. For $400 he can search out the problem, fix it and all will be well. Outwardly, nod your approval. Inwardly, seeth at being raped by The Man for an emergency plumbing fee.
FRIDAY AFTERNOON: Eagerly write a check to the man who just cleared 10 years of backed up excrement from out of the master drain. Thank Baby Jesus for plumbers! Are they getting by? Is $400 really enough?
FRIDAY AFTER THE PUMBER LEAVES: Stand on the edge of a pool of 10 years of excrement sitting on the floor of your laundry room. Apparently Plumbers don't do clean up -- such a crime!!! Remember the scene from Pulp Fiction when Harvey Keitel helps Mace Windu and Vinnie Barbarino "clean up" a similar crime scene. There are no Keitel's in the yellow pages under "Cleaners" but there is a husband and a father in law and a shop vac.
FRIDAY (STILL AFTERNOON): Like a million ice cubes shattering in a vat of hot oil. This is what it sounds like when the shop vac turns on in the basement and somehow causes a light fixture in the kitchen (where Mother in Law is feeding her granddaughter) to explode. There are no words to describe what the crime scene smells like. Sweep the shards of glass from the floor and out of your toddler's macaroni and cheese.
FRIDAY EVENING: Spend the evening bleaching everything in the basement. Assess the casualties of war. Tear husband a new one for using the new bathmat, hand cloths, and the dog's personalized doggie towel to aid in the clean up. Put everything in a contractor bag and drop it outside in the snow. In exhaustion decide to put off snowblowing the driveway until Saturday.
SATURDAY AM: Sun is shining. Snow has turned to hardpacked ice. Snowblower blades will not cut through it. Chisel a small path out with your scraper and a forgotten Lego so that you can get to your Saturday morning cooking class. Renounce your vegetarianism for the tenth time this year so you can taste the "Versatile Chicken Dishes" on the menu. Recall "Chicken Run" and Feel the Guilt Burn.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON: Take advantage of your In Laws' continued good babysitting graces and finish holiday shopping. Get in the car and notice the Engine Malfunction light is on. Take husband's car and go to The Mall. Sputter and mutter your way on the 3/4 mile trek to the door from your parking space. Climb over the triple parked hot rods in the handicapped spots, pick your way through the photos with Santa crowd, and spend the next 2 hours lost in one store. Accomplish nothing. Realize it's probably Karma biting you in the ass about the Versatile Chicken this morning.
SATURDAY NIGHT: Wrap the presents you do have. Listen to the In-Laws, the dog, the husband and the baby snore in front of It's a Wonderful Life while you tie little bows and name tags onto the gifts for your daughter's 10 preschool classmates, 5 teachers, 2 babysitters and 9 lords a-leaping. Two hours and 14 papercuts later, head up to bed.
SUNDAY: Daughter's sweet child disposition suddenly sours after a charming weekend and she bites Mother In Law repeatedly in a pit bull like attack. Meltdown ensues. In-Laws see the arrival of demon child and decide to leave. Goodbyes are made and the rest of the afternoon is spent trying to finish holiday shopping online while keeping daughter from eating the lights on the Christmas Tree.
SUNDAY 8PM: Desperate Housewives is a repeat. Resolve to go to bed early because of an early morning business trip.
SUNDAY 9PM: Listen to the POTUS ratings-boost broadcast. Decide to write a few Christmas cards before bed.
MONDAY 1AM: Go to Bed.
MONDAY 4AM: Get out of Bed.
MONDAY 4:45 AM: Get to Airport and find out flights have been cancelled. In a mystical coincidence, the three pilots for the 6AM USAirways, United, and Independence Air flights are "sick".
And the week has only begun.
Happy Holidays everyone!
THURSDAY EVENING: Behold joyous Christmas Miracles! Mother in Law has made dinner for everyone, and has started a load of granddaughter's laundry.
LATER THURSDAY EVENING: Father in Law interrupts the Apprentice Live Finale to report a small pool of water on the basement floor near the washing machine. Pause live television (thank you, TiVo) and gather around said pool. If not seeing any drips, agree to re-assess the situation and call a plumber if needed in the AM. Toss the dice in the "Maybe it will Just Go Away" gamble.
FRIDAY EARLY MORNING: Lose the gamble. Small pool of water has not only NOT gone away, but appears to be increasing slowly after the round of morning showers. Still no dripping can be seen. Spend the morning searching for a plumber from the yellow pages who can make a last minute emergency call in the middle of a wicked snow storm. Find one and agree to sell second-born child in exchange for a guaranteed appointment time.
FRIDAY LATE MORNING: Watch the wicked snow storm turn into a wicked ice storm before your very eyes. Make the game time decision not to send toddler to daycare. Grandparents offer to babysit anyway.
FRIDAY MID-DAY: Watch in horror as the plumber tells you that the water on the floor is not dripping from a leaky pipe, but, in fact, rising up from below the house from the master sewer drain. For $400 he can search out the problem, fix it and all will be well. Outwardly, nod your approval. Inwardly, seeth at being raped by The Man for an emergency plumbing fee.
FRIDAY AFTERNOON: Eagerly write a check to the man who just cleared 10 years of backed up excrement from out of the master drain. Thank Baby Jesus for plumbers! Are they getting by? Is $400 really enough?
FRIDAY AFTER THE PUMBER LEAVES: Stand on the edge of a pool of 10 years of excrement sitting on the floor of your laundry room. Apparently Plumbers don't do clean up -- such a crime!!! Remember the scene from Pulp Fiction when Harvey Keitel helps Mace Windu and Vinnie Barbarino "clean up" a similar crime scene. There are no Keitel's in the yellow pages under "Cleaners" but there is a husband and a father in law and a shop vac.
FRIDAY (STILL AFTERNOON): Like a million ice cubes shattering in a vat of hot oil. This is what it sounds like when the shop vac turns on in the basement and somehow causes a light fixture in the kitchen (where Mother in Law is feeding her granddaughter) to explode. There are no words to describe what the crime scene smells like. Sweep the shards of glass from the floor and out of your toddler's macaroni and cheese.
FRIDAY EVENING: Spend the evening bleaching everything in the basement. Assess the casualties of war. Tear husband a new one for using the new bathmat, hand cloths, and the dog's personalized doggie towel to aid in the clean up. Put everything in a contractor bag and drop it outside in the snow. In exhaustion decide to put off snowblowing the driveway until Saturday.
SATURDAY AM: Sun is shining. Snow has turned to hardpacked ice. Snowblower blades will not cut through it. Chisel a small path out with your scraper and a forgotten Lego so that you can get to your Saturday morning cooking class. Renounce your vegetarianism for the tenth time this year so you can taste the "Versatile Chicken Dishes" on the menu. Recall "Chicken Run" and Feel the Guilt Burn.
SATURDAY AFTERNOON: Take advantage of your In Laws' continued good babysitting graces and finish holiday shopping. Get in the car and notice the Engine Malfunction light is on. Take husband's car and go to The Mall. Sputter and mutter your way on the 3/4 mile trek to the door from your parking space. Climb over the triple parked hot rods in the handicapped spots, pick your way through the photos with Santa crowd, and spend the next 2 hours lost in one store. Accomplish nothing. Realize it's probably Karma biting you in the ass about the Versatile Chicken this morning.
SATURDAY NIGHT: Wrap the presents you do have. Listen to the In-Laws, the dog, the husband and the baby snore in front of It's a Wonderful Life while you tie little bows and name tags onto the gifts for your daughter's 10 preschool classmates, 5 teachers, 2 babysitters and 9 lords a-leaping. Two hours and 14 papercuts later, head up to bed.
SUNDAY: Daughter's sweet child disposition suddenly sours after a charming weekend and she bites Mother In Law repeatedly in a pit bull like attack. Meltdown ensues. In-Laws see the arrival of demon child and decide to leave. Goodbyes are made and the rest of the afternoon is spent trying to finish holiday shopping online while keeping daughter from eating the lights on the Christmas Tree.
SUNDAY 8PM: Desperate Housewives is a repeat. Resolve to go to bed early because of an early morning business trip.
SUNDAY 9PM: Listen to the POTUS ratings-boost broadcast. Decide to write a few Christmas cards before bed.
MONDAY 1AM: Go to Bed.
MONDAY 4AM: Get out of Bed.
MONDAY 4:45 AM: Get to Airport and find out flights have been cancelled. In a mystical coincidence, the three pilots for the 6AM USAirways, United, and Independence Air flights are "sick".
And the week has only begun.
Happy Holidays everyone!
posted by Martha Who? | 8:25 AM
2 Comments:
Your best post yet. Nice one. Mmmm, doody sludge, ice and artisinal cheese. What it means to be from Maine.
I know! and after all the jacking off I did last week about how GREAT this place is. Now NOBODY will come visit us.
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