Before my husband and I retired to spend our winters in Florida our house was filled to the rafters with family and friends on Xmas eve. I worked part-time in Sears catalogue department at that time but during December worked almost full time hours. Between working at Sears, doing all of the Christmas shopping, preparing my house for up to 50 guests on Christmas Eve, plus serving Xmas dinner to 17 on Xmas day, December was always a hectic time for me.
One Xmas eve day stands out in my memory because it was the day I almost killed my husband. Dennis never helped with Xmas preparations but always chose to spend his day doing "man" things like relaxing in front of the T.V., playing his guitar, or (on this fateful day) putting together a huge model of a sailboat which spread all over my diningroom table.
I worked around him in a silent rage all day...occasionally reminding him that I needed to prepare the diningroom table for our company...it would serve as a buffet table. He ignored me and continued to fiddle with little pieces of balsa which would someday be the "Bluenose".
At 6 P.M. (company would arrive before 7 P.M.) my temper got the best of me and I told him in no uncertain terms to get his damn boat off my table. This quickly developed into a huge argument and, instead of hitting him over the head with a frying pan, I stormed out of the house and drove away. I hadn't reached the end of the street before I realized I couldn't just drive away when 50 people were going to be arriving at my house in less than an hour so back I went. I always wondered how many of our guests could sense the animosity I was feeling for my husband that night.
This Christmas eve, I will be going over to the clubhouse where we'll sing Christmas carols, watch a play put on by residents, and relax in the glow of friendship. Beats the hell out of slaving and fighting, doesn't it?
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