Oh, joy. You’re finally home, reunited with your family for the holidays. Yeah, you probably could be excited about seeing all your near and distant relatives, but really, you’re just thinking:
Most of your relatives are judging your love of vino, but you know you’ll always have an ally in your (more than likely senile) crazy spinster aunt.
All of your family wants to know about what you’ve been doing with yourself since college, and if you’ve made any new friends in your new city.
You’re a disappointment, clearly.
But at least there’s wine, which helps you feign interest while your cousin discusses her upcoming nuptials.
Or gives you something to turn to when your family reminds you how much you’re actually failing at adulthood:
Basically, family reunions are great…except for the whole reuniting with family members part. Family members tend to accidentally remind you how not together your life actually is.
The bottle doesn’t judge. It just comforts.
Luckily, it doesn’t talk back either… There’s a good chance you’ll get drunk enough to tolerate your relatives’ interrogations.
You might even drink enough that your mother’s suggestion of calling your high school boyfriend seems like a good idea.
Of course, it’s not a good idea, because even though he’s definitely gotten fat, he has a good job, and…a fiance. Of course. So naturally, you need to drink a little more.
Being home isn’t all that bad. At least you can re-live some childhood memories.
And do childish things, like drink straight from the bottle (it’s the adult version of drinking straight from the milk carton – which is sick by the way).
And judge you as they might, there are always a few family members who are there in times of crisis (like your cousin dating the lead singer and amateur tattoo artist).
Which is nice, except for when your pre-teen niece tries to join your pity party.
You thought about getting together with your high school girlfriends, but realized you pretty much have nothing in common anymore. Naturally, your social media re-cap of your holiday weekend looks like this:
Until you get back to your new, adult life, where you can finally vent with your friends about how much you loathe the holidays…over wine, obv.
Finally, you figure out the only logical solution: somehow, you have to convince your relatives to leave you at home next year so you can enjoy the holidays Kevin McCallister style, who totally had the right idea.
So happy holidays, or whatever.
