barely fatal

Christmas, don’t you love it, the same, every single year. Hop on a train packed of unhappy looking people, cross half the country, to spend the holidays with your family. For the last 27 years I haven’t missed a single Christmas Eve at home.

Over the years, we have established a very stable routine. Since my father has to work and my mom is responsible for the food, my sister and I decorate the christmas tree. Then we go to church, not necessarily at once (though all to the same church), and afterwards: unpacking the presents (“Oh lovely, a new pair of socks! And a new DVD, I would have never expected that, how did you know?”) and then, the feast. Then my dad has to work again.

My mom used to sing in a choir late at night every time, but since she was always stressed out (worse every year) I didn’t “allow” her to go last year. Reluctantly she agreed, it took quite some persuasion (Jedi mind trick helped). And see, everything went much more smooth and quiet and relaxed, and this year she said she again wouldn’t go, without the need of any mind tricks.

Finding the right presents for everyone requires some organisational and managing skills. Traditionally, my sister and I team up, so we can buy more expensive things. My mother has her birthday in December as well, so we need to get two things at once. And then there’s my dad who always wants the same things (book, shower gel), so I need to get creative (his own fault!). My sister can never decide what she wants until the shops close. And I? I provide my Amazon wish list and a list of some random stuff that my mom knows a lot more about than I, but that I need nonetheless.

The list of presents is complete, manager’s delight: all set. I’m sure we’re gonna have the best christmas tree of all that we ever had (like every year). 23 days, and counting.