The holidays have never been good for my mood swings. Personally, I hate saying the word "joy" out loud. I've never been a gatherer. Hate to gather. I'd rather have a conversation with a Jehovah's Witness than listen to a caroler. My wife, on the other hand, makes Andy Williams look like Scrooge. We have a menorah and a tree. Luckily we are home for Christmas. No traveling. More importantly, no traveling here by family or other unwanted folk. It's not that I don't like family. It's just that I hate anybody staying at my house.
I'm not good with out of town guests. A couple of reasons stand out. 1. I am not an innkeeper. 2. I am not cordial. I don't have skills that are conducive with showing people a good time. I am too set in my ways. I hate disruption. I refuse to have any kind of conversation with the friendly UPS driver; so you can only imagine my rage when I hear my wife end a phone conversation with, "sure, you can stay here."
It takes me weeks to prepare for the visitors. I practice smiling in front of a mirror. I try to explain to the cats about the upcoming upheaval. They don't handle the news very well and begin to miss their litter box on purpose. I take down the trapeze in the bedroom. Practice keeping my robe tightly fastened. I make my wife feel guilty as much as possible for inviting the invaders. She calls them family.
First off, I don't live at Tara. I love my home, but my abode is more of a Nathaniel West old Spanish bungalow than a place for the Waltons. I'm sure in the forties that my house provided residence for an out of work cinematographer and the alcoholic stand-in named Daisy. We have a two bedroom house. That works for two people. Just two. Only two. Can I be any clearer!
The wife elbowed me in the stomach just before she went to pick up the soon-to-be "guests" at the airport. Her way of ordering an attitude adjustment on my part. I was also given a list of chores to do. I was supposed to put fresh towels in the front bathroom. Why couldn't we have fresh towels in my bathroom too? A fair point I thought. Who knew we had so many towels? I had difficulty narrowing down the color selections. I'm ripping up the next bed, bath, and beyond coupon the minute I see it. I was also assigned the task of dialing up the air freshener to pine extreme. Finally, I had to hide some naughty sites on my computer.
My displeasure continued with their arrival. Once they are here - you are supposed to do something with them. These folks have no sense of the the expanse of L.A.. No knowledge that it is easier to get from Capetown to Minsk than from Malibu to Disneyland. The wife had been using her "what to do in L.A." app recently to be prepared for the necessary excursions.
"We can see the Hollywood sign from here", I said through clenched teeth. No need to get nauseous winding up those streets to get a better view. I warned the visitors to not get too close to the guy in the Superman outfit in front of the Chinese Theater. That blue suit hadn't been to the laundry since 1985. Kinda cold to be going to Venice beach I thought. After a steely stare from the wife we headed for the sands and saw one skateboarder weaving down the boardwalk. Hope that was memorable. Universal Studios, Beverly Hills, and the rest were soon to come. I complained of an old war injury and luckily got out of going to Universal. They, of course, wanted to know if they were going to see any stars. I told them that if they didn't see any stars not to worry. There was a guy living around the block from us that once was on an episode of the Mentalist.
I know there are others like me out there. Those who value not running a Best Western. If you don't want visitors to stay at your place; or have these lodgers even think about planning a return visit to your place - I have a plan. Two words. Huell Howser. That's right, Huell Howser. He's the guy that travels all around California doing inane shows for public television. Visiting the most obscure sites and talking to forest rangers named Earl.
My idea is to bypass all the popular tourist spots when these out of towners show up on my doorstep. Take them to places that Huell has visited. For instance: 1. The warehouse in Downey where candied-apples were invented. 2. The railroad tracks in Chatsworth where Will Rogers' horse once relieved himself. 3. A cave in the Hollywood Hills where a non-Manson family member lived. 4. A place in El Monte that just looks like a tar pit. 5. The high heel museum in Upland.
I'm telling you, that this plan may seem devious on the surface, but would you want to come back to L.A. after visiting those places. I don't think so. For all of you dreading your holiday visitors - I offer up this idea as a gift from Santa Simon. All I want for Xmas is an empty house and a full litter box.
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