Over The River and Through the Woods

Today we’re off to have grown-up’s Christmas with my family. It’s kind of a shadow of Christmas though, because we already had our family celebration yesterday. But we’re loading up the car, packing the presents, and heading out to do our visiting. We’re planning on spending the night at my parents’ house, which might be interesting.

I know I’m all grown up and married, but I still feel incredibly weird about sleeping there with *gasp!* a man. (Which leads to the question of just how uncomfortable I would be if I were sleeping with a woman, but that’s another thought, for another day.) And by “sleeping”, I mean engaging in slumber and rejuvenation, not sex. The idea of having sex in my parents’ house squicks me out so much, I can’t even begin to describe the discomfort. Yes, I am that pent-up about their house.

Which is what has me really flummoxed here. I’m not pent-up at all about sex. I’ll do that just about anywhere. Except my parents’ house. And maybe a funeral. (Not that that chance has been presented.) But I digress, because having sex there isn’t even the root of my hang-up. It’s the mere presence of a man in the room where I spent my formative teen years. There’s no real reason for this discomfort. It’s just me being incredibly weird I guess.

But hang-ups or no, we are off to do our visiting, to eat, drink and be merry. Gifts will be exchanged and a good time will be had by all. It will be the epitome of the perfect family holiday.

Egads, I can’t wait to get back home.

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