I spent two whole days early in the week annoyed at a friend who lives out of state. It started because I read a comment on Facebook (eeevil Facebook) that his holiday card was cute. A comment made by someone I don’t know, but who is, clearly, a more favorite friend than me.
Hey, what holiday card? WTF? Why didn’t I get a holiday card? I know I sent him one of ours. HELLO.
So, as I was tossing out this year’s cards yesterday, saying a last goodbye to each little group of progeny we parents like to slap on our holiday wellwishing. . .
Quick commercial break here. YES, I throw away holiday cards. I don’t care if you think I’m horrible. All those cute little family pictures, little poses of our friends’ kids in matching sweaters, matte, glossy, fancy, not. It feels wrong, but I can’t help myself. Who are these people who save cards? Do they exist? Do they have a dedicated room in their house (the one they won’t let you go in) with floor to ceiling plastic bins full of organized baggies of holiday cards from years past? I think not. Y’all toss ‘em too. Don't lie.
Where was I? Correction. I was RECYCLING this year’s cards, and there it was. My friend’s card with those adorable little twin cherubs. Cleverly embellished with his designer touches (because he’s a designer). And then it hit me. I’m an idiot.
I used the return addresses from everyone who sent us a card this year to send mine out. OF COURSE he sent me a card if I’d sent HIM one. Doah!
That late night stare at the ceiling wondering if all my friends hate me for some secret reason. . .the conspiracy theories. . .the two donuts I stuffed down my pie hole. . .yelling at the dog for no reason.. . .all because I have a shitty memory. Or something. So, I smiled, exhaled, released the tension. And tossed the card in the bin. Bye kiddos, see you next year.
Anyway, sorry J. Even though you never knew I was mad at you.