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December 25, 2005
Christmas Crime
In what will henceforth be referred to at the 2006 Christmas Caper, a tragedy befell our family over the holiday weekend. Actually, it befell me...and now that I think about it, it's rather an unusual coincidence that *I* was the sole victim of this crime, while all the other family members escaped unscathed. Here's the story:
My stocking was kidnapped.
Yes, it's true. While all the other family stockings emerged from the attic in a neat little pile, my stocking was MIA. There was some confusion among the witnesses (Jess brought them down from the attic, where they made a pit stop in Janie's room--where a football field could easily disappear in the clutter--and then they were brought down by my mom. It seemed like a shell game to me, but at the end of the day, the stocking was unrecovered and presumed gone forever. There wasn't enough evidence for an indictment, so I had to cut the suspects loose.
After conceding the loss, I ended up using The Boyfriend Stocking (TBS).
TBS was originally purchased for S in Japan, who turned out to be an angry alcoholic cheater (it was, however, a nice Christmas--he got me a silver ring). TBS was left in storage during the era of J, who was perhaps the best gift-giver in the bunch, but who never spent Christmas with the family and was ultimately kicked to the curb. At long last, TBS was brought out for C, who was mistakenly identified as "The One". In a unseemly flip-flop (and after a year of serious dating), he surprised me on Christmas by NOT getting me a present, then told me I was "The One" on New Years, and then broke my heart a mere 4 days later VIA EMAIL. Six years later I'm still angry and bitter, may he burn in Hell forever.
Since then, TBS has basically hung out with the other Christmas decorations--never one of the beloved accoutrements, but never quite relegated to the Good Will pile. And thank goodness for that, because TBS was called to its greatest duty late last night when the family had to face the truth that my stocking (made by my mom when I was a baby) was not coming back.
It performed its duty admirably, and I am a happy post-Christmas girl.
Comments
Our new family ritual is to sit around a crackling fire and read your blog. Of course, this usually means just me, and as I don't have a fire place, its usually a glass of scotch. Still, an arguably wonderful ritual...
Posted by: Mr. Bad Apologies at December 25, 2005 11:41 PM
Made by your Grammaging!
Posted by: Anonymous at December 26, 2005 12:34 PM
