So much for having girded my loins against multiple instances of festive: the “planning curse” I married into…
…and that my MIL’s been struggling against for slightly longer than I’ve been alive…
…kicked in, and I wound up not going to a single work function. The D.C. party (a long shot at best) proved to be a logistical impossibility, the local one was called for us on account of @bhoneydew‘s unexpected surgery1, and I had to bail on Monday’s office one or risk barfing on my co-workers.
On the bright side, I did manage to get the holiday letter written while I was sitting in the hospital waiting room. I felt really good about that, until it came time to assemble the cards.
These were not the cards that I bought a couple of years ago.
Or the ones I bought last year when I couldn’t find them.
These were new cards, purchased because I couldn’t find any of the boxes of holiday cards that are supposedly lurking in this house.
The cards were photo cards.
For 4 x 7 photos.
There wasn’t a single 4 x 7 photo in the Monster’s pack of holiday photos (yeah, a photographer came to his school again this year, and funny thing: this time, he insisted on taking his picture with Santa, so oh, you betcha, those photos just became freaking heirlooms).
This did not deter me. We ordered the CD for a reason. And we do have a photo printer. We also have plenty of photo paper, because I stocked up in advance, just in case this happened.
Correction, we did have a photo printer.
I was informed that it’s been broken for a while, and it’s the kind of broken that’ll require Yet Another Trip to Best Buy … Are You Kidding Me? C’mon, I Was Just There!
I gave up trying to do things the old-fashioned way and decided to order photo cards online. Sure, they’ll show up after Christmas, but since people have gotten holiday cards from us in June, they’ll hardly notice if one shows up in January instead of December. I still had the CD. I figured probably be a piece of cake to upload the photo…
…or it would have been if the photographer hadn’t sent just a 72 dpi thumbnail instead of the original digital image.
Yeah, it’s a First World sort of curse.
But the scanner worked, damn it, or at least it should, since it just got replaced.
It did work.
After I swore at it.
I uploaded the photo — and the only card that I could find that worked with the photo wouldn’t accommodate a holiday letter in the same envelope. It did allow for a personalized message on the back, though, so I decided to put in a radically abbreviated version of the letter…
Which I couldn’t find.
The letter wasn’t on Dropbox. It wasn’t on my phone. It wasn’t on my desktop or iPad. I hadn’t e-mailed it to any of my accounts. It wasn’t scrawled on the crumpled receipt from the hospital cafeteria that I found when I emptied out my coat pockets. It wasn’t jotted on the steno pad I’d taken with me to the hospital just in case the iPad or phone died.
So I put together a few paragraphs off the top of my head, and ordered the cards.
Here’s hoping they’ll actually show up. Or the correct number will show up. Or that I ordered the correct number. Or that the scan I uploaded doesn’t look like complete crap when it’s printed. Or that I didn’t accidentally paste over the holiday note with the lyrics to “Super Bass”.
Or more likely, typed something that expressed glee most unbecoming at the prospect of chucking a certain red furry Muppet into a blender with some ice and tequila and hitting frappé.
I was going to talk about New Year’s Resolutions in this post, but now I’m a little afraid to.
I’ll save that for next time. Maybe the curse will wander off by then.
1It can be argued that @bhoneydew’s family’s curse is also what put him on the operating table. His agenda for one sunny morning a few weeks ago did not include “shred a tendon in right bicep while slaying a spider”, which meant that it magically did.