Holiday Brain-Fog

I’m not going to lie, if you don’t see me posting for a while and I’m not bragging about some upcoming trip I want to rub your face in, it’s likely because I’ve fallen prey to a near crippling case of The Lazy. Oh, I could paint any number of viable-seeming excuses over it, but it boils down to me selfishly hoarding my free time for the things that require the least amount of barely-warmed synapses firing. Since nobody is paying me to do this, I figure I’m fairly safe.

The holiday was a nice break from work…mostly. If you don’t count nearly electrocuting myself while rewiring a GFCI outlet in the kitchen. For the uninitiated (read: unzapped), a GFCI outlet is supposed to reduce the chance of electrocution and house fires…just not when you’re installing them with the wrong circuit breaker tripped. Hey, I’m not the one who labeled the breakers and gave two of them the same name. I’m simply the guy who would rather light up the kitchen with a massive fireball than turn two breakers off at once. On top of that, my vacuum cleaner decided it was time to fill the house with the warm and welcoming smell of burned rubber (the belt) before taking its own life. Apparently it respected us enough to not take us along for the ride to the electronic afterlife. With these two wins under my belt, the (holiday) world was my oyster.

Typically around this time of year, I’ll haul out the old (looking) frying lagoon and risk becoming a greasy statistic to prepare a potentially delicious dead bird in a metal bucket full of napalm. Seeing as how my brother here on the east coast has a young child (and now a newborn as well), I figured it was time to pass the list-fuse dynamite on to him and switch to a cooker that doesn’t require a tanker truck to fill and empty the heating chamber. Never fear, it requires propane, so there’s still some inherent risk of making the local news.

While this new “fryer” doesn’t require the aforementioned lake of oil, it still manages to cook a turkey to juicy perfection…just not in 45 minutes like the oil fryer. It’s been a figurative eon since I’ve been in the near vicinity of an oven-cooked bird, so I’m not sure what the cooking times are for that scenario. I’m told I can Google it. I’m guessing (The Lazy) it’s more than 2.5 hours, the amount of time it took to cook a 14lbs bird in my new propane-powered hair dryer. And with the exception of a drip pan nearly overflowing with turkey goo of some kind, it was fairly easy to clean.

Apart from a late Christmas day call from work (I didn’t realize “you’re in charge” meant “you’re on call”) that didn’t require me to leave the house, everything was fairly quiet and reserved. Achebeyo and I had our seasonal argument about when to open presents: my stance being the moment we get bored, regardless of the date, and hers being two weeks after Christmas to make the holiday last longer. As usual, we settled on Christmas morning…as long as I cooked everything the day before. I got up early and arranged the gifts and stockings in such a manner as to suggest no other options for that morning, then set off to lure Achebeyo out of bed with promises of tea and snacks. Between that plan and our feline facilitator (I swear our cat has a pro-wrestling background with the way she assaults the door if we’re not up before 5am), everything went off without any hiccups.

Achebeyo surprised me this year by taking my very short list of wants to mean you’ve known me long enough now, surprise me! And she did. While I got the stuff I asked for (mainly games, toys and accessories for existing toys), she also dug into the short list of other stuff I like and wowed me with a few simple additions. I would have returned the favor, but the few times I’ve gone off her pre-filed flight plan for gift-buying, it’s been a disaster of epic pouting (me) proportions. She likes what she likes at the exact moment she likes it, and if I try to go off my memories of what she once liked, I’m left stacking stuff in closets to re-gift to other family members later. Regardless, she did get one gift she was only half-expecting: a certificate to get her body mauled and scraped at her favorite day spa. I say half-expecting because I typically get her one every year, but I cleverly disguised this year’s gift in an odd box.

You got me a home bunion kit?

She was pleasantly almost-surprised.

When we weren’t vegging out to streaming shows or Blu-ray movies, I was enjoying one of my newly gifted video games (which I’ll drag you through a review of later). We also managed to make some calls to family members around the States…once we emerged from the food comas we self-induced. While I missed spending time with my family in various locations, it was kind of nice to stay at home with no obligations except to keep from blowing up the house and not falling into the final sleep of the over-fed.

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4 Comments on “Holiday Brain-Fog”

  1. Narf Says:

    Thank you SO much for the vacuum cleaner suicide – I actually spit coffee all over my desk πŸ˜€

  2. Mr Pig Says:

    Wonderful! Glad you made it out alive! I also got a home bunion kit… They are awesome!
    Merry Christmas! And technically, the twelve days of Christmas begin on Christmas Day, so 2 weeks later could still work just fine πŸ˜‰

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