How sad is it that I'm blogging at 11:52 p.m. on Christmas Eve instead of heading to Midnight Mass or caroling around the fireplace? This has been the most, um, interesting Christmas Eve in memory.
Okay. The truck broke down last night. Not that I like that truck, or understand why any intelligent person needs to drive such a vehicle, which gets, like, 12 miles to the gallon. But it broke down. So Peter is on edge, not his charming self. Kind of hard to be around. Kind of the type of person I'd like to smack in the head.
Then, I called the clowns at Le Mediterannee to confirm the reservation I made last week for dinner for 13 of us tomorrow, Christmas Day. The dude who answered said he had no record of my reservation. Nearly laughed when he said it, the fact that he'd taken my phone number and implored me to confirm at noon on Christmas Day notwithstanding.
Thank God I listened to the little voice in my head that told me not to wait to confirm until tomorrow. Confirm today. Confirm right now. So I did. Can you imagine if I'd waited until tomorrow?
Because Le Mediterannee doesn't have room for us in the inn anymore.
So I spent much of the day scouring the Internet for restaurants in Midtown or the Upper East Side that would have us. Most place are closed for Christmas and those that are open are booked solid. Sibling One was able to get us a table at the Stanhope, which didn't please Daddy because turkey is not on the menu.
So after all this, Peter goes off to the dry cleaner to pick up Child One's Christmas dress and Child Two's good coat, but the damn place is closed. What dry cleaner in creation is closed on Christmas Eve? I mean, what are you thinking? Isn't Christmas Eve the busiest day of the year for dry cleaners?
So we have to improvise. Child One can wear the dress my mother-in-law gave her, but it makes her look like a walking dinner roll. It's cut so badly I don't even know where to start. Child Two will show up at the Stanhope, not in her beautiful coat, but in a ski jacket.
Something good will come of this. It has to.