Monday, March 5, 2012

Christmas was like two months ago.

A few weeks ago, my boyfriend, Charles, informed me that his father Bob and Bob’s lady friend (let’s face it, when you’re in your 70’s she is no longer a girlfriend), Sally, would be coming for a visit.

Me:  When are they getting here?

Charles:  I don’t know, maybe sometime next week.

Me:  How long are they staying with us?

Charles:  I don’t know, a week or two, maybe.

Me: Oh good.

I like Bob and Sally, they are very nice.  Bob is quiet and happy with a couch and a T.V., so basically he is low maintenance.  Sally makes up for Bob’s taciturn ways.  Sally has lead a very interesting life in her 75 years, and I am pretty sure she is trying to get the story out there to anyone who will listen, in a second by second retelling of her life and times.  I am always excited to have guests, especially if they are family, especially if they are staying with us during the week, when I have to work (“Sorry, I just don’t have enough leave to take time off!  I know, bummer, you’re going to have to go antiquing without me, sucks!”).  So I was cool with the short notice of Bob and Sally’s impending welcomed visit.

Then Charles brought up the Christmas card.

Charles:  Sally was upset by the Christmas card we sent. (we = me, Charles doesn’t do cards)

Me:  Seriously, it’s February.  I mean…What was wrong with the card? (I am pretty sure there was an eye roll accessorizing that question).

Charles:  I don’t know something about leaving her name off the card.  I shouldn’t have brought it up.

Me:  Her name was on the card, I clearly remember writing “Dear Bob and Sally”.

Charles:  Then I don’t know.  Forget I said anything, why are you getting so defensive, GOD!

I couldn’t stop thinking about this horrible and offensive Christmas card I had sent to Charles’ father and his lady friend, what had I written (or not written)?  And as the day changed into night I was no closer to realizing my folly.  Had I written some hidden message in the text, one that if you held the card up to a mirror in a candle lit bathroom while playing Led Zeppelin backwards, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer would appear and sing (out of tune) Christmas Carols forever?, because that could make some people a little upset.  And as similarly rational thoughts raced through my head at 1:30 in the morning, it finally dawned on me…

They never sent us a Christmas card.

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