Holiday morning-afters spell relief for weary hosts

November 29, 2011

Did you ever feel like that movie, “The Morning After?” It’s not exactly a science fiction flick, but it may as well be if you look in the mirror after a major holiday like Thanksgiving.
The creature staring back is your image of a carbohydrate overdose. You may still have some poultry stuffing stuck in your hair. Oddly enough, even though you appear to qualify for a Macy’s Day balloon parade entry, you have a smile on your face.

And that’s because the company that has invaded your humble abode is going home. You know this because as a good hostess you have an evacuation plan. It’s been in effect for months. In fact, you’ve often caught yourself daydreaming about it when you stare out at the ocean and need an impetus for inspiration. It is the stuff that dreams are made of, you might say.

And here it is. I know the sentence ends with a verb, but you’ll see it is well worth the grammatical freedom.

You were thoughtful enough to leave all manner of departure schedules piled high in the guests' rooms and elsewhere. All possible types of transportation including air, sea, land, and burro are plastered on the backs of cereal boxes, on the ceilings of the guest rooms and as an effort to appear tasteful, on the inside of the toilet seat.

As a personal touch I like to have them glazed with leftover gravy and then use a hot glue gun or a blowtorch as a seal for extra protection. Oh, I’m not leaving out the older relatives either; I’ve placed those brochures with a font size up to 80, and just to be safe, a Coke bottle type of magnifying glass.

Of course, there is no electricity in the house the morning after. Every circuit has been blown by all kinds of techno devices plugged in by mostly the young folks and running nonstop since their arrival.

Anything with an Apple logo has snaked its way across floors, over beds, though chairs and under cushions to outlets that are now down to the wattage used in European bed and breakfasts.

But you’ve had the foresight to call the electric company and book an appointment for today. In order to have service restored, you made that appointment in July. For those who have not thought ahead, be prepared for a prerecording when you call your electric company that is nothing but a laugh track from a comedy show like “Two and a Half Men.”

And the cable company has a similar laugh track, except this one keeps repeating they will be with you momentarily before they play the recording. The men that installed this at the cable company were hospitalized from laughing so hard themselves, they ruptured the fluid in their eyeballs. It’s a dangerous job all around.

But the crowning jewel of this evacuation plan is a stroke of genius. Yes, I know it can’t get any better, but it does. I ordered a Dumpster to be delivered for the afternoon of the morning after.

You see, the next day you will find scattered amongst sofa cushions, piled high on your dining room table, stacked in your freezer and refrigerator, hung from shower curtains and stuck in your VCR all kinds of personal items. From eyeglasses to property deeds, they will be forming their own planet right before your eyes. Pretty soon your place will resemble that show where people hoard so many items you need hip boots to get though the place.

And I don’t have to tell you the phone will ring off the hook requesting you save these items.

So the old Boy Scout motto falls into place here, “Be prepared.” Life is good again the morning after.

  • Nancy Katz has a degree in creative writing and is the author of the book, "Notes from the Beach." She has written the column Around Town for the Cape Gazette for twenty years. Her style is satirical and deals with all aspects of living in a resort area on Delmarva.