My parents called earlier asking to pop round with ‘my’ Christmas cards.
I don’t want Christmas cards. I told them this. However, they decided I should send Christmas cards. So they bought Christmas cards for me to send.
I said today wasn’t a good day. I’m feeling iffy, I’m in pyjamas and I may puke at any moment.
Not to worry; they’ll just drop them in and be off.
Okay.
Nope. They are in my house. The doorbell went while I was on the toilet and DS let them in.
It’s been thirty minutes and they’re still here.
This is NOT the agreed drop off. I TOLD them today wasn’t a good day.
They do this. This kind of thing. They think nothing of forcing themselves onto people. They somehow ALWAYS get their way.
I’m already hosting them for Christmas even though I don’t want to. Mid-November they dropped into conversation that they’d ’bought the chicken for Christmas for me’.
I could regale you with the stories from when they had a key and the time I changed the locks but I don’t have the energy.
Apparently the Christmas cards couldn’t wait because I’ll want to write them. To whom, I don’t know.
Anyway, I’m just having a moan. A Christmas whinge.