Yeah, it’s not even 3 p.m., but it’s never too early to bitch about everything that goes wrong on “special days”.
The kitchen sink plugged up as I was running potato peels through the disposal. Hubby put too much power into the deplugging, resulting in a leak and water all over the basement floor.
The stove in the basement hadn’t been used for awhile, so while it was heating the green bean casserole, it decided to layer a cloud of smoke throughout the house. The battery is now gone from the smoke alarm.
Five kids – three we’d never met (hubby’s son’s girlfriend’s boys) and hubby’s son’s two girls – neither parent watched what they ate so naturally they were full from appetizers before dinner was on the table. They still insisted that parents fix them a plate, so there’s five plates of wasted food (and a garbage disposal that’s not working).
Four adults – hubby, hubby’s two sons, and the aforementioned girlfriend – sitting in the living room with their cell phones out, texting dirty jokes to each other, while the kids run rampant.
The cranberry salad tasted like crap, the green bean casserole didn’t stay warm, and the rib roast (which hubby insisted on doing himself) was overcooked. I’m told the duck was fine though, and if it hadn’t ended up on five messy plates, pushed around with broccoli salad and potatoes and gravy, I might have gotten a bite, but alas.
Of course the five kids were all ready to eat when it was time to cut the pies. Good thing one of the pies is still in the cupboard.
Why do I put myself through this? It’s rarely enjoyable, but it’s always stressful, and expensive.
Oh, and apparently nobody told girlfriend’s boys that toilets can be flushed, even in someone else’s house.
