Hiding from the Holidays
Author: P. Venus
Shhhh…. you need to promise that you won’t tell anyone that you’re reading this. I’m hiding out until at least January. The holidays actually caused me to crack up last year, ending with me in a fetal position under the Christmas tree mumbling postal rates for overnight vs. ground and the instructions for assembling a candle garden. This year I vowed everything would be different. I was not going to need therapy just because I spent an afternoon with my extended family.
It all started in late October, just about the time when the remaining school supplies start mingling with the Halloween costumes, and the first hint of red and green starts creeping out onto shelves. My plan was simple, just like ripping off a Band-aid, I was going to get the holidays over as quickly and painlessly as possible. I intended to dress up as Santa Claus as my Halloween costume, and head to the mall for Beggars Night. Since I was at the mall anyway, I could go ahead and get my Christmas shopping done that very night and cross that chore off my list. Instead of handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters, I would hand out turkey legs and wishbones as I shout “Happy New Year!” instead of “Trick or Treat!”.
Although I got some strange looks from parents and had to dodge a few turkey legs that some ungrateful little brats chucked back at me, my plan worked out perfectly. I danced through the rest of the week at the thought that my holidays were complete. I even booked myself a couple of cruises that would later be disguised as “training seminars” and “humanitarian missions” when my parents wanted an excuse as to why I was missing Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners.
Then it happened. As I was shopping for a new set of luggage for my upcoming trip, I heard it. Christmas music. Like hearing fingernails on a chalkboard, I quickly clamped my hands over my ears and ran out of the store. I jumped into my car, relieved at the solace it gave me. But it was only brief. As soon as I started the engine the radio came on, and I heard the Chipmunks singing about hula hoops. It was too late; the music was stuck in my head. How could I have been so stupid not to prepare for this? I should have bought an Ipod and worn it everywhere I went.
Things pretty much went downhill from there, and I’ve ended up here. I can’t really say where “here” is, but I can tell you that everyone is named Betty and I’m learning how to do macramé and make paper mache zoo animals. Everyone is very nice to me, and they say I should be able to go home soon, just in time to be tortured by Valentine’s Day and Easter.