argh

Last night, Ed and I decided that going to the largest mall in BC one week before Christmas would be a good idea.

Truthfully, the mall trip itself was uneventful. Everyone has either completed their Christmas shopping or are waiting for the weekend for the last mad dash for unnecessary crap, because getting there was a breeze. We found a parking spot right next to an entry, and I didn’t have to elbow anyone out of my way for the crimes of barging into my bubble. I’ve had more traumatic mall trips on a rainy Sunday, so this was actually kind of pleasant. We managed to get everything we needed (plus a few ridiculous extras) and got out without murdering anyone. A total win!

So why, then, did my holiday stress levels go from -5 to 617 in the Apple Store?

My mother called.

I don’t know how or why or what the fuck, but my mother invited herself over after Christmas. My mother hates travelling, and has never once volunteered to come to the mainland – she’s been to Vancouver three times in the ten years we’ve lived here, and each of the previous times was at my insistence out of sheer holiday guilt. Ed and I were not planning on having a guest – in fact, we were hoping for a nice quiet Christmas full of alcohol and post-antibiotic boning. What on earth are we going to do with my mother for two days? She’s picky, doesn’t like doing anything, and then there’s that whole “instantly revert to a petulant 14-year-old” thing.

I now have an anxiety-inducing list of things I need to accomplish no later than Tuesday, including:

  • Clean the entire house
  • Deal with the massive pile of recycling threatening to take over the kitchen
  • Plan meals suitable for my mother
  • Buy the ripe bananas my mother asked for three times during the “I’m coming over” phone call
  • Do groceries at four places to cover everything I need for the week
  • Somehow find time to make things for two different potluck events
  • Scrub my bathtub – it’s kind of gross, but I wasn’t really expecting anyone to call me on it in a passive aggressive way
  • Figure out what the fuck to do with someone who DOESN’T LIKE ANYTHING EVER
  • Curl up into ball
  • Cry
  • Clean my office so it’s suitable to house a body
  • Hide the gay porn .. you know what? Fuck it. The gay porn stays out.

This could all easily be done by Tuesday, but I have actual Social Things planned for tonight, Sunday, and Monday night. That leaves .. tomorrow? Because I absolutely wanted to spend my Saturday neurotically washing all the vertical blinds because my mother is sure to notice and comment on them. ARGH. This whole thing is giving me ass marbles just thinking about it. Normally I’d have had several months to prepare for this visit, but I learned about it less than 12 hours ago and I am having significant trouble coping with the inevitability. I don’t WANNA clean the house! I don’t WANNA go shopping for all the groceries including Costco the last Saturday before Christmas! I don’t WANNA have to wear clothes around the house and make polite conversation! LIFE SUCKS WHY WAS I EVEN BORN

I needed to get that out of my system. I’m better now, I promise. And I guess it’s time to get to work.

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