Christmas time means many things to many people. In my family it means huge upheaval and usually a big blowout between the parents. This time of good tidings and joy seems to be a catalyst for tears, yelling and the threat of divorce. And who is standing between them? Me. I am pulled into the drama, with phone calls at work, phone calls at home and the imminent display of emotions when I stop by to visit.
So, it has dawned on me, yet again, that my family sucks the life right out of me. With the exception of faking my own death and living a life of quiet solitude abroad, in Scotland, I have no idea what I can do. And I now realize the severity of the problem when the only plan that is appealing to me is to fake a shark attack and leave only my underwear (with my name clearly written with a black sharpie inside so as to easily identify the "remains") behind. I do wonder if any of them would believe a shark attack? Probably not, since landlocked Alberta probably comes in somewhere near the bottom of the list for fatalities at sea. What about a farming incident? No, they would expect to find body parts along with the underpants. Besides, everyone knows I lack the proper plow skills to work on a farm (although NOT having plow skills could CONTRIBUTE to my demise, now couldn't it?).
I must face facts. I am stuck between a rock and bunch of nutters, and no amount of strewn underwear is going to get me out.
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