With Thanksgiving come and gone, the onslaught of holiday activity is in full swing for me.
I’m not talking about shopping—I’ll leave that to those who enjoy spending money at malls, boutiques and in cyberspace.
My holiday hustle and bustle involves planting myself on the couch and peacefully watching movies and television shows related to the holiday season: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, A Charlie Brown Christmas, It’s a Wonderful Life to name a few.
The only other time I demand unmolested television viewing is every four years during the World Cup.
It’s a tradition I hope the future ex-Mrs. Davalos, whomever she may be, will understand and observe.
In years past it’s been my experience that women seem to have really important things to say when I’ve settled down to zone out in front of the television.
I don’t know what it is about the theme of say, Breaking Bad, that prompts some ladies to remember that we’ve been invited to dinner somewhere by someone but that date conflicts with a yoga seminar they’ve been wanting to attend and they’re not sure what to do.
(And I still don’t understand how, even though words have been uttered in the form of a statement i.e., “I don’t know what to do,” they are supposed to be construed as a question thus an answer is expected).
Women—not all of them of course because that would be a gross and hazardous generalization—at times are like cats who see you in front of a keyboard and decide at that moment they need to nap on your computer. Confounding, sharp clawed creatures, they are.
But I’m not a hypocrite.
More often than not I’m quiet when one of their shows is on. And while the urge to ask “How can you watch this garbage?” is greater than the need to keep my eyes open when I sneeze, I keep my mouth shut and stare at the floor.
Sometimes I’ll even go the extra mile and get up to leave the room, that way she doesn’t have to put up with my apparent “silently judging” her.
Invariably, however, that magnanimous gesture is met with queries of where I am going and why.
“I thought we could watch this together,” she’d say, though I was never sure if it was a statement, a question or a demand.
“I have things to do,” I’d answer, only to discover that among those things is bringing her back a glass of water.
I hope this public declaration doesn’t send the wrong message. It’s not that what women have to say isn’t important.
Of course it is. It’s just that during the holidays there are times when my attention may be focussed on something other than the mundane details of every day life. Can’t we save the discussions and chit char for a less compelling occasions. Like the holiday sales commercials?