Holidays are over and I am now, again, at a safe operating distance from my family for maybe another year.

I. Am. Worn. Out. Utterly.

Seriously, I feel I like I have survived war. The suitcase remains unpacked. The car is still full of travel food and maps. The answering machine remains unchecked. About the only thing I have accomplished since coming home is picking up the dog from the kennel.

Sailor Man and I have been rehashing all the arguments, discussions, exchanges trying to decipher the nuances we may have overlooked that will ultimately come back to haunt us in the form of a new grudge at some family gathering in the future.

Damn, y’all, I is tired. This is too much. Giving serious thought to phoning in next year’s appearance and heading somewhere sane for the holidays, away from family, where distinct rules of social behavior are followed and respected, where the give and take of human interaction follow predictable and understandable patterns. Like say, in prison.

Or maybe we’ll just pull an Aunt Marlene (from Sailor Man’s side of the family) who never shows up for anything because she conveniently can “never find the house”. Smart lady.