I was rushing across my house, desperately trying to prepare everything for the arrival of my judgmental family. It was Christmas day and I got myself stuck with hosting the annual Christmas Family Reunion. It went something like this: All the adults were huddled in the shade of a large oak tree on Aunt Maggie’s farm. All the kids were running around, playing with the variety of animals, or jumping in the bounce house the Maggie rented. “This is the best reunion I’ve ever been to!” my cousin Andrea commented. Everyone else nodded in agreement, well everyone except for me.
I was considered the ‘screw up’ of the family. In other words, I was 27 and wasn’t married to a rich man with like brats running around. I had gone to college and gotten my degree, I was actually considered pretty smart, but in this family brains didn’t mean anything, money did. And considering that I worked at a local restaurant for minimum wage, hadn’t dated anyone in about a year, and my small, crappy home; I wasn’t exactly seen as the Crown Jewel. They basically hated me.
My stupid competitive nature decided to rear its ugly head. No matter how hard I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but utter, “I could do better.” To my horror one of them heard me: my grandmother, Gloria. “Oh yeah, you little twerp. You think you can do better? Then you can host it next year, and if you even do a fraction better than this, I might just die of a heart attack!” She sneered at me, daring me to deny.
“Ok.” OK? OK?! THIS THE FARTHEST THING FROM OK! She nodded her head before saying, “Then I’m not looking forward to seeing you next year.” See I told you they hate me.
So yeah, that’s basically the reason I’m currently running around like Usain Bolt. I was just about to put the ham in the oven when I heard my doorbell ring.