Seasonal Joy

“Honey – Tom at the paper wants me to write a seasonal column.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I don’t know. They get so cliché don’t they? Shopping malls and stress. I just can’t think of anything original.”

“Why don’t you write about our Christmas tree falling over and how your eyes bulged out as it tipped towards you on the couch?”

“That’s OK I guess – although I think it happens to everybody doesn’t it? Should I mention that it scared the dog so bad we haven’t seen her for a week?”

“Ummm – maybe not. Have you called the SPCA yet today?”

“Not yet. Boy, she sure moved fast didn’t she?”

“Well, you might get a move on too if you had a million needles landing on your butt. Don’t forget to fix the dog-shaped dent in the drywall there.”

“Can I mention that I said we should tie the tree off at the top and you said no, don’t worry about it?”

“Don’t even go there buster.”

“Well OK – that is sort of amusing though. What else could I write about that is seasonal?”

“Can’t you write about making a lumpy skating rink in the back yard?”

“There is nothing funny about a man’s boots being securely frozen into the ice. It is also not nice to laugh at your own husband as he walks through freezing slush in his stocking feet to get back into the house. My toes are still cold. I feel like an Antarctic explorer who loses all his toes after they turn black. I think I have gangrene.”

“Well, then tell them about how the dog contributed to the flooding process.”

“There is nothing funny about a yellow centre ice circle.”

“Well then how about how you stepped on the hose sprayer thing as you were wrestling the hose inside the basement and freezing water shot up your nose and all over the walls? The kids thought that was priceless.”

“You are all disloyal and will one day regret all these terrible things that happen to me and that you laugh at.”

“Can’t help it – you’re a funny guy”

“Schadenfreude is not a sense of humour – it is cruelly laughing at others misfortune.”

“Well then you are a fountain of Schadenwhateveryoucalledit. The kids think you’re the best clown there is.”

“I don’t want to be a clown – it just happens.”

“Here’s something safe you could write about dear. Every morning you clomp outside in your bathrobe to get the paper in the driveway and, when it has rolled under the car, you spread your legs FAR apart and squat down to try and reach it. The neighbours are starting to complain.”

“About what?”

“The view of your shortcomings on display as your robe falls open and you give them a full Monty as you squat to get the paper.”

“I had no idea.”

“Precisely. They tell me they are running out of eye bleach and that the visual is making them nauseous.”

“Well, what are they doing up so early anyway? Don’t they have anything better to do than peer out their front windows that early in the morning?”

“Apparently, the early morning light is best for photographing your boots stuck in the middle of the ice. The dawn shadows make for great composition.”

“I thought I asked you to cut the tops off those darn things so I could flood over them and people wouldn’t know what a ditz I am? I’ve never made a rink before and I really have no idea what I’m doing. People should give me a break.”

“Never mind dear. Just say Merry Christmas somehow and that should cover it.”

“Well that seems rather tame.”

“Tame is good for you dear.”

“When I finish writing I’m going to start assembling the kid’s toys.”

“Will power tools be involved?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll set up the video camera anyway. If we don’t get rich from your writing, at least we can win some prize money on that show about home videos.”

“Thanks for your support. I still have no idea what to write about. Goodnight dear. Merry Christmas.”