I’m in heaven. I’ve taken the week off from my job at the magazine and am experiencing domestic nirvana. I really think I would make an incredible house wife: I love folding laundry while watching Ellen; I love making tomorrow night’s dinner before noon; and I love plucking my eyebrows and painting my nails for no reason other than having the opportunity to do so. If only the Beast could get out of retail and find one of those jobs I’ve heard about where one income provides enough wealth for an entire family.
Retail is shit. Growing up, my mom worked at K-Mart which meant she worked up until 6:00pm Christmas Eve. That leaves very little time to prepare for festivities, especially when you get home and you’re exhausted. When I worked at the restaurant full time, getting time off over the holidays was next to impossible so I sympathize greatly with those of you who are working right up until this evening.
But this year I’ve seen how The Other Side lives: I’ve been lucky enough to cook, clean, bake, get groceries, do LCBO runs, finish shopping and watch day time talk shows and episodes of Jamie Oliver’s Italian adventure show on the Food Network.
You want to know what sort of cooking and baking I’ve done. Oh let’s see here, I’ve made chilli;
and meyer lemon cupcakes;
and snickerdoodle cookies.
I’ve also turned into a bit of maniac with all this time on my hands: For example, I’ve gotten into the terrible habit of calling the Beast at work to give him holiday planning progress reports.
Foodie (on phone): Hi there.
Foodie: What are you doing?
Beast: Ah, just working.
Foodie: Well, you’ll pleased to know I just finished wrapping the presents.
Foodie: AND I finished bottling my homemade limoncello.
Beast: That’s great.
Foodie: But I was hoping that you could pick up some magazines to throw in there. And could you also pick up that goat cheese you like so much from Alex Cheese Farms? Also, I need some allergy medication.
Beast: Are you joking? What magazines? I don’t know what magazines to get? Can’t you get the magazines?
Foodie: Oh sure I can. I guess I’ll just go out for the TENTH time today to pick up things for Christmas.
Beast: You do know that I’m working, right?
Foodie: Yes but there’s a Shopper’s Drug Mart right across the street from you. You could just pop in there.
Foodie: Are you mad?
Beast: No I’m not mad it’s just that you’re not working and I am working so it just seems to make sense that you pick up that stuff.
Foodie: Oh yeah, right. Fine. One more thing though: do you think you’ll have time to clean up your music room? It’s the worst I’ve ever seen it and I’m just trying to get the house in order.
Foodie: I see your point. I was just tidying and cleaning up every other room in the house so I thought why not include it. But it’s not important.
Beast: Is there anything else? I really have to go.
Foodie: Not that I can think of but I’ll call you if I remember anything. Love you! Oh wait, have you seen my antique amethyst ring that reminds of Anne of Green Gables times? I can’t find it for the life of me.
Herein lies the housewife’s dilemma: she has time to do everything but that means she actually has to do everything.
The Beast came home last night and I made dinner while he put some finishing touches on his secret Christmas gift for his family. Then we curled up and watched the movie, “The Remains of the Day,” during which–shockingly–I fell asleep. After brushing my teeth I crawled up the stairs and climbed into bed. And that’s when I heard The Rap Master.
This is a keyboard thing that the Beast picked up from the Goodwill. That cord is a microphone and you can modify your voice to sound high-pitched and funny or low-pitched and creepy. The Beast was rapping into it with the different voices while playing beats.
Foodie: Turn that thing off!
Beast (in high-pitched mode): But it’s a Christmas rap and it’s here to stay. Christmas doesn’t come everyday.
Foodie (from under the covers): STOP IT! I’M SO TIRED!
Beast (high-pitched): Let’s have some fun. Let’s have some cheer. I am the rap master. Go get me a beer.
Foodie: YOU ARE BEING VERY POORLY BEHAVED. STOP NOW!
Beast (low-pitched creepy voice): But it’s Christmas Eve and I want to rap for you.
Foodie: That’s the scariest thing I’ve ever heard! I’m going to have nightmares now! And it’s not Christmas eve–it’s the night before Christmas eve.
Beast (high-pitched again): I want you to sing into this rap machine.
Foodie: NO! GO AWAY! WHY ARE YOU BEHAVING LIKE A CHILD?
Beast (high-pitched and still rapping): Because this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time and I want you to know how much fun it is too! Come rap with me!
Have you ever been in a situation where you’re trying not to laugh because you know it’s game over if you start to giggle? And the giggles won’t stop? I can’t tell you how angry I was under those covers. I just wanted to sleep. But then my body started shaking and the Beast knew that he’d broken me.
Beast (high-pitched rap): Just sing a little line into the microphone. It’s Christmas time so throw me a bone.
Foodie (low-pitched creepy rap): IT’S CHRISTMAS TIME AND I’M HERE TO SAY, STOP BEHAVING LIKE A CHILD BEFORE I MURDER YOU. RAP, RAP, A RIPPITY RAP…
That did it: we were both hysterical–our bodies heaving from those sorts of laughs that are silent. No sounds were emitted, only tears.
The Beast finally put away his rap machine, but only after I said he was treating me like a brother would a sister with his tormenting spirit. I think that disturbed him as much as the low-pitched rap voice did me.
I’ve got a big day ahead of me: have to pick up a few emergency groceries, watch TV, paint my nails red, make a pork tortiere, a torta rustica and meringues (while listening to John Denver’s Christmas album), and finally, get into my holiday outfit for the Beast’s family Christmas tonight. It’s going to be so much fun. He’s bringing The Rap Master.
One last thing: I’d like to wish each and everyone of you a very happy holiday: I hope that you find the time to share a meal with the people in your life that make you happy. That’s what I’m going to do, and I can hardly wait.