The Village Idiot: Holiday depression a mystery

I am pretty much the perfect house guest. You probably won’t even know I’m there from Dec. 24 to Jan. 4 (that’s my birthday, in case you’d like to do anything special. No, don’t tell me — surprise me! You can pick me up at the airport at 6 a.m., which should give us plenty of time to talk about the things we’ll do and the places we’ll go.)

That won’t leave much time for shopping, so here’s a list of things I don’t eat or am allergic to so you can plan ahead. Don’t you just hate it when people tell you after you cook something that they can’t eat it? I would, too, if I knew how to cook.

I don’t want anyone fussing over me while I’m there. Just tell me where the fridge is, where the espresso maker is, where the whirlpool spa is, where the liquor cabinet is, where the wine cellar is, where your flat-screen plasma HDTV is and I’m pretty much good to go. You may not even know I’m there. Don’t let me interfere in any way.

I usually take breakfast at 9:30 or so and read the paper. No, not your local newspaper, silly. Mine! I’m sure there must be someone in your town who can deliver my hometown paper to your house by 9:30 every morning. I only live five states away. Please tell them not to fold it or roll it. If they could iron it before I read it, that would be nice, too.

Breakfast should be something simple, Eggs Benedict or Belgian waffles with fresh fruit will do just fine. Or maybe an egg white omelet with sauteed wild mushrooms and shallots, but don’t go baking fresh bread every morning unless that’s what you normally do. Treat me like I’m one of the family. In a way, I am. I nearly married your second cousin 20 years ago and if that isn’t family, what is?

I was planning to visit your brother and sister-in-law this year like I did two years ago, but they had to take a sudden last-minute trip to Botswana. It’s funny, almost everyone I know was traveling or having elective surgery the only two weeks I have free. But that’s OK, I retire next year and I’ll be able to travel any time I want. I’ll be able to fit into anyone’s schedule. Won’t that be great?

You do have hypo-allergenic pillows, don’t you? That’s all right, you’ve got all day to run out and get some. I don’t go to sleep until 2 or 3 a.m. Right after the Late Late Late Movie. There’s nothing like watching those big Hollywood musicals on a big flat-screen plasma TV. I love to sing along, don’t you? It’s like having our own personal karaoke bar. The louder the better, don’t you think? There is a microwave in my room, isn’t there? I don’t want to have to walk all the way to the kitchen just to make popcorn.

Did I tell you about that week I spent with Aunt Edna? Absolutely dreadful. Why, I didn’t even have my own bathroom. I had to share it with a complete stranger. Her son or daughter or somebody. I didn’t say anything, but really, what has happened to common courtesy in this country?

Actually, I think Edna was suffering from what they call “Holiday Depression.” A lot of people get it this time of year. No one’s really sure what causes it, but let me tell you, I see a lot of it. I was telling Edna about my sciatica and suddenly she stood up and yelled, “Make it stop! I can’t take it anymore!” The poor, sick, deluded woman. I wanted to stay and nurse her back to health, but Uncle Paul insisted all she needed was a good rest and we’d have to cut my visit short.

I said I wouldn’t think of it, that I would stay and help nurse Aunt Edna back to health. But he offered to put me up in a four-star hotel downtown and what could I say? I like Paul and Edna, but she really needs to get some professional help. Besides, they’re not really family, not the way we are.

Jim Mullen is the author of “It Takes a Village Idiot: Complicating the Simple Life” and “Baby’s First Tattoo.” You can reach him at [email protected].