The Post-Holiday Post
*Author’s note: This is a new and improved (read: rewritten) version. I was getting a headache reading the first version and, as I was rewriting, decided to add a few more details.
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I’m in a weird mood, possibly the result of eating too much at my mom’s yesterday afternoon, drinking three glasses of wine, and watching “The Prairie Home Companion” twice. That part of the day was great. I really recommend watching the movie, especially if you’re already a fan of the radio show.
Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly have some of the funniest (and a tad tasteless) musical lines in the movie. (“I used to work in Chicago, at a convenience store. / I used to work in Chicago. I did but I don’t anymore. / A lady walked in with some porcelain skin and I asked her what she came in for. / “Liquor,” she said, and lick her I did, and I don’t work there anymore.”)
After returning home loaded to the roof with leftovers, the not-great part was listening to my 4yo nephew whine for half the evening and listening to Darling Daughter screech for half the evening. At that point, I would have sold my soul to the Hypothetical Boogyman for a set of ear plugs.
Meanwhile, Precious Son #2 vanished to visit his girlfriend (two hours away) and Beloved Son #1 had a few friends over; like 20 – maybe 30 people. (Okay, not quite that many, but it sure seemed like it.)
There was the midnight raiding of the leftovers, the 2am raiding of the leftovers, and the 3am warning to the roaming hordes of teenage boys that, no, they could not eat again. I mean, is it too much to ask that the stuff not be completely wiped out before I get a freakin’ ham sandwich and a piece of pie??
Locusts. I’m telling you. Teenage boys are to a pantry and refrigerator what locusts are to fields. They swoop in, eat every blessed thing in sight, and vanish.
By the end of the night, I was still thankful, though.
“Thank you, Goddess, for keeping me from killing the little brats.
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