Thank you very much for all of the lovely things you left under the tree. A few weighty, thousand page tomes of historical fiction did indeed make for a light up the room grin. As did the yummy smellies in which to soak and slather myself before sliding between the sheets with the aforementioned tomes. The CDs, stationery, etc. were also much appreciated, and a special thank you for the Queen and Paul Rodgers DVD.
But what was up with that other present? Well? Was that some sort of sick payback for not leaving out the milk and cookies this time? Listen pal, by the time you get to this part of the world, you’ve had far more than your rotund self needs of such things. I thought that I was doing you a favour by pointing you in the direction of healthier alternatives. But even if I got it wrong, the heart was in the right place, and you should have appreciated that.
I take issue with your full on drama queen overreaction and would prefer that you refrain from indulging in tantrums of that magnitude in future. A lump of coal in the toe of my stocking would have been protest enough, thanks. There was no need to go completely over the top and put a damper on the day for everyone. Surely you realize that yours truly is the lynchpin of this family and when I’m off-key, nobody else is singing in tune, either. Wish that it were otherwise, but it isn’t. And yes, yes, I did ignore the warning signs that had been there for awhile and possibly did deserve some sort of punishment. But you could have waited just a couple of days before doling it out.
However, having said all of that, I’ll have you know that it takes more than the sudden flare-up of a painful ear and sinus infection to totally ruin Christmas. Granted, it took some of the shine off, but you’ll have to do a lot more than that to keep me from providing my family with Christmas dinner. I might have been dizzy, feverish, and grumpy from pain, but the Christmas spirit prevailed. Once the work was done and I could launch on the sofa, huddled under a cozy blankie with a hot cup of lightly spiced Christmas tea, I revived sufficiently to enjoy a thoroughly pleasant evening with my family.
Of course the second part of your nasty Santa jape was unleashing your tantrum when medical clinics are closed for an extended break. I thought that I’d try to tough it out until some open for business tomorrow, but my nearest and dearest weren’t having that. Despite my protests about not wanting to bother overworked hospital staff with a non-emergency on a holiday, they browbeat me sufficiently that I finally gave in last evening. By which time the stiff upper lip was starting to seriously quiver anyway, and not just because my teeth were chattering from the fever-induced chills. A standard earache I can handle, but the sensation of someone relentlessly stabbing my ear drum with a white hot knitting needle, while playing the bongos with gusto on my sinuses, was getting to be a bit much.
So, Santa, I think that a serious apology is in order here. But rather than making it up to me personally, how about giving some extra treats to the lovely hospital staff? Their job is tough enough as it is, without having to take on the extra load over holidays. Most of us clogging up the emergency department last night wouldn’t have been there, had there been an alternative. But the staff took it all thoroughly in their stride. Smiles and friendliness all ’round from the moment I registered until the moment I left with prescription in hand … a mere hour and a bit later. Oh, and Santa, you can also drop off a few treats for the staff at the one and only 24 hour pharmacy in this area, who chose to ignore the fact that it was a holiday for most. Again, a very friendly, efficient bunch.
Once you have taken a moment to reflect on your behaviour of the other night, I’m sure that you will see that I have a valid point. If you have further issues with me in future, I would much appreciate it if you would deal with me face to face, or at least in a way that does not affect those around me. None are more deserving of a perfect Christmas than they, and I thoroughly resent anyone spoiling it even slightly for them.
But, in the spirit of the season, I forgive you for the momentary lapse in good humour. We’re all entitled to an off moment now and then, and perhaps you’re more entitled than most. While making your rounds to bring joy to boys and girls of all ages, I’m sure that you witness more human misery than any of the rest of us could bear all in one go. So, some venting of spleen is certainly understandable, but perhaps it would be better vented at those causing the most misery.
Thank you for listening and thanks again for the lovely things that you left all of us this year. No hard feelings about the bad one … as long as you take what I’ve said here seriously and don’t give a repeat performance next year. Have a restful, happy New Year with Mrs. Claus et al.
Lots of love,