This year’s Grand Christmas Crisis (what? It’s a tradition now chez May) is being provided by H’s grandfather, who is seriously ill in hospital right now. All our festive plans may be completely derailed at a moment’s notice, and damn it, it’s not fair, on H’s parents, his grandmother, and the patient himself. Christmas is a tough time for H’s lot anyway (anniversaries of several tragic, desperately sad deaths). And we both love the man dearly, and H is miserable with worry, and I am miserable for H and his whole family, and a bloody Merry Christmas to you too.
(Of course, it occurred to me, that what with my penchant for for Fucking Up The Holidays, I’m quite likely to go and get pregnant right now this very week and make everything totally 100% more insanely complicated and stressful and depressing than it already is).
(Now that I’ve said that, I shan’t. Sod’s Law. So that’s alright then).