How the Grinch Almost Ruined My Christmas (LynnK)

Make that Grinches. When troublemakers come, they come not single spies, but in battalions.
Meet the ones that invaded my blameless life this week.

Grinch #1: Strep. Not mine. My sister’s. So she won’t be coming for Christmas after all. I’ll be Home Alone! Sob.

No, it’s perfectly fine. Newly a member of my parish choir, I’ll be tied up with Sunday Mass, Monday evening Vigil Mass, and Midnight Mass, all with carol sings beforehand. I’m shamelessly cutting the Christmas morning Mass, though. Three sermons in one day? I don’t think so.

Grinch #2: Time-Warner Cable. While they did nothing evil to me this week, T-W (aka Grinch Emeritus) has earned a spot on every Naughty list.

Grinch #3: Medical Insurance billing. I won’t name my provider, which is generally fine. But I spent five hours on the phone, much of that time on hold, listening to several offices provide conflicting information or referring me back to people who referred me to them. Just maybe, things are straightened out. More likely, I’ll be back on the phone January 2.

Grinch #4: Citibank. You’d think they would know how to process a money order. But after misrouting it in their system, they returned the now-tattered document to me as unpayable and debited my account a handling charge. So I paid a little visit to the branch manager, who admitted it was Citi’s fault and promised to expedite the second deposit of the money order. Uh-huh. After five weeks, the money finally showed up in my account. Less $100 for bank charges!

More hours on the phone. Today, sounding weary, the beseiged manager agreed to refund all the undisclosed and unauthorized bank charges. Let’s just say he convinced his superiors that I wasn’t going away or giving up. Which is quite true. It would have cost me a whole lot more to fight Citibank than I’d ever get back from them, but I have a hard spot in my heart for Big Corporations who run roughshod over individuals.

Ah, well. Peace has now descended. To make sure it stays, I’m not answering the phone tomorrow. No Grinches allowed. Tonight I’ve got candles lit, hot chocolate with a splash of Bailey’s Irish Cream, and the tree is looking good. Well, to the point a six-foot artificial tree purchased at Walgreen’s for $15 can look good.

It’s buried under scores of ornaments, which helps, and all are special to me. The ones brought home from Peru and Ecuador, Mexico and China, Germany and England and a dozen other countries, bring back wonderful memories. There are ornaments from friends as well, gifts that call up good times together. It’s the first tree since my mother died in 1989, and I think I won’t pass another Christmas without one.



With me under the tree, the Can-Opener doesn't need any other presents.



So all is well here, although the cat might beg to differ. There's been little time for petting or playing, and he doesn't yet know about the premium food stocked up for his Christmas-week meals.

Not to mention the little matter of his Gay Apparel.



The Grinch must have been here. I feel the weight of the world on my head.









Now this is just demeaning.