Unstuffing a timely Christmas

Hunting, Fishing and Other Grounds for Divorce, by Jacki Michels

Dear Santa,

I have been a very good girl this year. Honest. Well, mostly. OK, I’ve blown it more often than not. But my intentions are impeccable — except, that is, on the few frequent occasions that they’re, well, not.

Oh, heck. I’m naughty to the core. But I want to be good.

I do. Honest.

No doubt you recently received our boy’s extensive and detailed list of demands, and I’m sure other kids wrote to you, as well. But I’m wondering, what about us grownups? Do we get to want stuff?

Listen, Santa. (Can I call you Santa?) If I’m honest (a nice thing to be), I have a little wish list of my own. And if anyone can pull it off, Santa, it’s you!

— XOXO (Yes, I am kissing up to you. You probably get that a lot. But that doesn’t mean I don’t mean it!)

So here goes:

Oh Handsome Red-Suited One,

You’ve clearly been working too hard, because we all have too much stuffage, so stop. Even better, take some stuff away — stuff like Snookie, the stuff at the bottom of the sink and half the stuffing out of every closet, storage container and miscellaneous stack of papers.

But, if you must be a giver, then please see the attached file folder, subcategory, “Wish list.” Please note that Appendix 1, Section A, under “Vacation” is cross-referenced with Appendix 2, Section C, entitled, “Romance.” Santa, buddy, how can you say no? When Ken and I married, we had no time, much less cash for a proper honeymoon. Two decades later, we’re still waiting for both to fall out of the sky and onto our laps. Speaking of laps, yours looks very comfortable on which to sit. That IS faux fur on your hat, yes?

And speaking of time, O Most Generous Giver of Glad Tidings, I need more of it. Not a lot. Like five minutes a day. My ultimate goal is to use the time to shave my legs, but if that is too luxurious, I would be willing to shave one leg and/or armpit per day, and just enjoy an overall lower average of hairiness.

And while I am enjoying my time in the bathroom, Dearest Santa, is there anything you can do to stop teenage boys from smelling like teenage boys and more like fresh-baked bread or sun-dried sheets or something? I would really like my ONE BATHROOM to stop smelling like the bowels of an ancient high school locker room that has been liberally hosed down with B.O. and corn chips. Oh, my.

If you are feeling especially magnanimous, I’d graciously accept a few hours, but do whatever you can. To assist you (if you so choose such a generous gift), I’ve attached a copy of my schedule for the next 365 days (including work, dental, doctor, optical and veterinary appointments), the school district schedule, cross-country ski schedule, a list of band concerts and a spreadsheet highlighting hubby’s work rotation.

Santa Baby, just see what you can do.

Kindest regards to my dear rosy-cheeked pal,

Mrs. Michels

P.S.: If you are too busy to find me time, cash would be acceptable.

  • Grounds for staying married: Buying wife paper plates and sending her off for a long winter’s nap.

Jacki Michels is a freelance writer who lives (and loves) in Soldotna.


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Filed under holidays, humor

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