On the Second Day of Christmas

At some meager hour of the second day of Christmas, I heard the freezing rain hitting the windows. I probably grimaced in my bed. After sun-up, when I got up and made my way to coffee, I saw the fat flakes falling at an awfully quick rate. It looked so pretty, but I kind of groaned again, wondering how much snow we would get (I hadn’t seen a guess at accumulation) and whether it would be fairly impossible to get out of my parking pad in the muck. Then it switched back to freezing rain. And then a mix. A mix of ick.

I debated calling in sick, since my back was still crooked with spasm and I wasn’t at all confident I’d be able to get to the car and clean it off without going down hard and shattering something made of calcium or cartilage. But then my phone dinged and I learned that the Chinese food Christmas feast had poisoned a coworker. Crab wontons. Now I had to do her job instead of mine.

So much for the fantasy of nursing my spine, watching movies and eating soup.

So much for fantasies in general, apparently, if that’s what gets me excited these days. Sheesh.

Well, wait a minute, I realized. That’s not how it has to be. Maybe I can at least partly save that really pathetic fantasy.

After treading very carefully down my marble front steps with a tray of cookies in one hand and the iron railing gripped in the other to deliver cookies to a neighbor, I got back in the door, took off my wet shoes and pulled up “The Family Stone” on my DVR. As it began, I heated up a can of Progresso chicken noodle. And then I settled down to seek proper lumbar support and spend an hour with Diane Keaton, Sarah Jessica Parker, Dermot Mulroney, Luke Wilson, Claire Danes (my celebrity lookalike, as several opinions go) and Craig T. Nelson, throwing forks and accusations and meaningful glances at each other. There is something so satisfying about coming in from the cold, walking sock-footed, wrapping up in a blanket and warming yourself from the inside out. I got to hang out just long enough for the mucky mix to switch over to rain, sluicing some of the heavy snow off the car to help me out with the clearing job.

I got out of the parking pad without incident. I made it through the lengthened work day without too many grunts of pain alarming the coworkers. And later, I got to take in one of my favorite events of the year: The Kennedy Center Honors on CBS… a blatant, gluttonous, indulgent display of the best artistry in the country.

And also Kid Rock.

Who I didn’t hate if I had my eyes closed.

The day turned out less painful than I’d feared, on all fronts.

7 thoughts on “On the Second Day of Christmas

  1. I love socked and souped days. And while I feel for your co-worker, since I too was once the victim of Crab Wonton food poisoning, I feel for you more. Here’s hoping you spine decides to straighten up and fly right soon.

  2. Take-away from the Kennedy Center Honors: My mom and I concluded that ballet doesn’t impress us. I obsess about the dancers’ bone density from being under-nourished, and my mom finds them too dainty. I liked Ray Romano’s line about how Letterman was a hero to everyone there – except maybe the people who came to watch the dancers. Exactly.

    • Yeah, I’m not so into the dancing. I mean I think they’re amazing – the control of their bodies is just amazing – but I’m aware that it’s an art I don’t fully appreciate. I DO, however, FULLY appreciate guys who put on prosthetic noses, feign autism and swear.

  3. Pingback: On the Twelfth Day of Christmas | thesinglecell

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