Christmasjacked

Ah, 2008! Such a sack-o'-shit year! You just can't ease on out without one final burst of bad luck.

Our plan for the holiday was a modest, quiet one: Go visit my folks on the farm and spend a couple days relaxing in the country. Shoot some shotguns. Go on long walks. Eat yummy food. Have some fine bubbly. Celebrate my birthday.

But then, my sister-in-law--whom I like, don't get me wrong--decided she wanted to come visit for the holidays, and that also included a trip to the farm. Which meant my mom-in-law--whom I like, don't get me wrong--was also coming along. So our quiet Christmas turned into a family get-together.

After I got over that fact and readjusted my expectations, I was fine with that. I had my dear guy explain to them that they were now family, not guests, and that everyone would be free and obligated to do whatever they wanted. Everyone seems to be on the same page, and all seemed settled.

But now, my guy's stupid employer decides he's got to work, all alone, on the day after Christmas and then on the Saturday after that. That as a retailer the business must be open, though historically those days have been the slowest sale-wise of the entire year.

Now, if we were talking about a place that sold toys or clothes or whathaveyou, the boss might have a point. However, that's not the case: my guy works for a specialty instrument dealer catering to people at music school here (which will be closed) and to folks online. So he'd be driving five hours on Christmas night or at the crack of ass on my birthday to go sit around and play online chess, whilst drumming his fingers by the silent phones and gazing out over the empty showroom. While his sister and mom sit around on the farm 300 miles away and I pine for his company.

Stupid, stupid fucking 2008.