Because it's the day that I must run about and get everything ship-shape and gorgeous and dust free, clutter free and child-mark free before guests come tomorrow and I get to say "I'm sorry the house is such a mess," and they say "It looks great! I wish my house was as tidy," and we do preppy Ha ha ha's and then I serve food and drink and slip the kids a candy every so often to encourage good behaviour. Christmas Day, I must pull off a "Oh this Christmas stuff is so easy - why do folks fuss so?" and I can pull off the smugness of it. I relish the smugness of it. Even if no one gives a shit, I'll have the false security of the smugness.
Now, in all honesty, the cooking part is easy. Really I just stuff the food in the oven and it does all the hard work. All I have to do is set the timer and stack the cooking sheets just right to get them in the right order. I stand around looking bored most of the time which is probably a sign I should drink more but I should just come out the closet and admit I'm virtually teetotal. In all honesty, there's a bottle of open wine on my kitchen counter - very nice chianti - that's been there for over a week. I just forgot about it. I wish I could be that way about cookies.
I had doctor's appointment this morning because the throbbing left side of my face thing that's been going on for five weeks started to flare up again and I've finally given in and went to the doctor expecting to be told "You'll just have to wait it out, it's a virus, it'll run its course, sucks really but there's fuck all I can do, Merry Christmas!" but no! He looked in my ear and informed me I had a bunch of fluid built up in there - then invited the kids to have a look down my lughole which was just spiffing - prodded my sore, swollen neck and asked "Does that hurt?" as I suppressed a "Fuck Yah." and said "Uh-huh you can stop that now." to which he chuckled and asked me about my sputum. Ah the joys of being a GP, I'm glad I'll never have to ask someone about the colour and consistency of their sputum. How vile. But Dr. Phillips was jolly and kind and dispensed amoxicillin to me. You know I was depressed about that. Miserable about having to give in to a bunch of fucking unwanted bacterium squatting in my left sinus cavity. But they did start to give me pink-eye, so it had to be done. I lasted five weeks, and I think that makes me tough enough. I really just want to be well enough to get back to the gym - I miss running! and the weights and my friends and the tennis wall and the punching bag. *Sigh* A weeks' worth of antiB's will be worth getting back to my routine.
Weird thing though, the Dr's surgery was packed! I've not seen such crowds. It's as if everyone was in a panic that the doctors weren't going to be available tomorrow so they better stock up on the meds while they can. The queue at the pharmacy was even worse. I began to wonder if my amoxicillin was more of a party favor give away over at the clinic.
Today I'll defrost the turkey joint, make the Boston creme pie, and set up the rota for tomorrow. Clear the table and scrub it free of dried on cheerios and lentil soup, mop the floor, vacuum, dust (The kids will do that - they love it.) and shove all the books that are stacked about into the side table. I hide a lot in there...I should ferry most of what was stuffed in there when Mom came, into the recycling bin. Make more palmiers. I'm getting a bit tired of cooking, you know. I'm also tired of listening to Spongebob Squarepants and Lego Star Wars.
...I'll go make some tea first.