This is the introduction of order from chaos. You see, it’s a process. Perhaps it is akin to the stages of grief.
First was denial. I’m not really going. I can drop out at the last minute. It’s too far in the future – I can’t think about it. It’s not for real.
Then there was anger, wailing at the injustice of it. Why should I have to suffer? Why can’t my neighbor go in my place?
I moved on to bargaining. If I can stay home with my dog, I will buy my parents beachfront property.
Next came depression. What’s the use? I have to go. What a drag.
Finally, I was driven to acceptance. It’s only two weeks out of our lives. As long as we don’t discuss sex, politics, or religion, we’ll be okay.
Complicating this was a health scare. Until this afternoon I feared I would be banned from alcohol during the entire holiday. Fortunately I finally visited the doctor and learned that there was a simple, immediate solution which he has now applied – leaving me free to guzzle bordeaux contentedly.