Christmas 2004 dawned bright and hot. I was sharing a house with two of my cousins, who all had somewhere to be on Christmas, so had left the night before. I went out to our pitiful 20cm-high tree and opened the one present I already knew was under there – a purse from my cousin that I chose. Santa was nowhere to be found.
I went to work. At that point in my life, I cleaned guest rooms at a resort, rooms that this day were filled with Christmas cheer, wrapping paper, and happy families enjoying holidays in the sunshine. I cleaned their toilets and I vaccuumed their carpets and I was the epitome of Christmas cheer. Then as I was driving to my empty house, I could see people out in their decorated garages and yards, eating, laughing and having fun with each other. I went home and sat on my single mattress on the floor of my closet-sized bedroom and cried into my cat.
Gosh I wish I was kidding, but that’s legitimately what I did! So funny. Anyway, as I was laying there bemoaning my fate, my phone beeped with a text message from a friend’s parents wishing me a happy Christmas. One thing led to another and they invited me out to their house for lunch, seeing as I was alone. I almost said no, because my ex boyfriend was there and we weren’t breaking up very nicely.
Fast forward to too many beers (not me), yelling in front of my friend’s parents and their whole family, including small children (again, not me), tears (me), and driving home alone before the day was done to eat a solo dinner and probably a bit more crying (me).
Oh the misery! Oh the hilarity! Do tell me your Christmas horror stories 🙂