Hoping for a Holiday

Well, January is most definitely the after-Christmas month. Other than New Years Day, there is really nothing that goes on in January, except that some time in the middle of the month, my uncle Emory leaves from his "Christmas visit." Perhaps if January were blessed with some holiday that was useful for things other than blowout sales at car dealerships, we could convince him to go home earlier. Itís just that all the time right after Christmas (excluding the wild festivities of boxing day) seem like one of those long awkward silences in a conversation with someone you donít know too well. It feels like something should be going on, but whatever it is that should be going on... isnít. Perhaps if something actually went on between Christmas and New Years, like taxes or something, we could get my uncle to go home then.

Really, the only thing I can remember that happened during those days was Emory trying to explain to us what had happened to our presents. Apparently, my parentsí gifts were stolen right out of the back of the car he got my brother, which was carjacked the next day. His excuse to me, though, was a little more honest. He simply said, "Well, last year I didnít get you Jack Shit, so I thought maybe this year, I would." Granted heís not too imposing, or annoying, or even smelly, but I still think that nearly a month is far too long for a Christmas "visit."

Actually, I suppose it doesnít matter. He only eats the trail mix he brings with him in a big black suitcase, and he hardly ever leaves the bathroom. Most of the time, I forget heís here. Itís just kind of odd, thatís all. We asked him why he sleeps in the bathroom, and why he spends all day in there, apart from his wheel of fortune breaks, but all he had to say was that the hall closet did not have a towel rack or those little soaps under the sink.