It's official. I loathe family gatherings.

This Christmas party is the first we've had since Grandpa died. In some regards it was the same as always - same food being served, same tradition of giving each other gifts, same old boozy eggnog - but there was no Santa coming downstairs, and the basement was decidedly less messy, since Uncle Scott moved in and redid the basement. There's a bathroom down there now! Hurrah!

( I thought Christmas Eve was when you were supposed to try to be as good as possible to counter all the rotten crap you did during the year. My bad. )

Dad had too much eggnog and I had to drive him home. Honestly, though, I'm pretty sure he was drunk most of the day to begin with. He kept patting me on the head or the arm, and it took me quite a bit of willpower not to jerk away from him. He always gets touchy-feely and emotional when he's drunk - a surefire way to tell is when he's crying.

Well, anyway, Merry Christmas, everybody! I hope you got everything you really wanted!