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T'was the night before Christmas and all through the kitchen;
I was cooking and baking and moanin' and bitchin';

I've been here for hours, I can't stop to rest;
This room's a disaster,
just look at this mess!

Tomorrow I've got thirty people to feed;
They expect all the trimmings.
Who cares what I need?!

My feet are both blistered,
I've got cramps in my legs;
The cat just knocked over a bowl full of eggs;

There's a knock at the door and the telephone's ringing;
Frosting drips on the counter
as the microwave's dinging.

Two pies in the oven,
dessert's almost done;
My cookbook is soiled with butter and crumbs;

I've had ALL I can stand,
I can't take anymore;
Then in walks my husband, spilling drink on the floor.

He weaves and he wobbles,
his balance unsteady;
Then grins as he chuckles
"The egg nog is ready!"

He looks all around and with total regret;
Says, "What's taking so long ...
aren't you through in here yet?"

As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe;
I wanted his life!

He flees from the room in terror and pain;
And screams, "MY GOD WOMAN,

Now what was I doing,
and what is that smell?
Oh darn it's the pies!
They're burned all to hell!

I hate to admit when I make a mistake;
But I put them on BROIL
instead of on BAKE.

What else can go wrong?
Is there still more ahead?
If this is good living,
I'd rather be dead;

Now, don't get me wrong,
I love holidays;
It just leaves me exhausted,
all shakey and dazed.

But I promise you one thing,
If I live 'til next year,
You won't find me pulling
my hair out in here.

I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;
And if that doesn't work,

~ author unknown ~

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