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Posted by on Dec 26, 2022 in Christmas humor, Gary Chalk, Humor, humour, Retirement humor, Retirement Humour, Retirement Living |

Living Retired — ‘Tis The Morning After Christmas’

Living Retired — ‘Tis The Morning After Christmas’

Living Retired — ‘Tis The Morning After Christmas’

By Gary Chalk

‘Tis the morning after Christmas,

And all through our house,

Not a creature is stirring,

Not even my spouse.


Jan’s Christmas attire is heaped by our bed,

She’s dreaming the turkey gravy stains are only in her head.


It’s 11 in the morning and we’re still flat on our back,

Christmas rum and eggnog has us feeling out of whack!


Jan has a heating pad wrapped ‘round her head,

While I awake clinging to my side of the bed;

My nasal strip has slipped down onto my chin,

Jan will complain about my snoring — I cannot win!


I have visions of our post-Christmas Day mess dancing in my head,

While Jan is dreaming of Pottery Barn candles in cherry blossom red.


When from the front lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter!

WHACK! I tripped on the dozen decorator pillows scattered on the floor.

And Jan still wants to buy more!


Away to our front door I flew in a flash!

Dashing through the foyer I slipped on Christmas wrap,

And when I looked outside I moaned, ‘Aw crap!’

Our Christmas display was supposed to be on the front lawn,

But something happened and it was long gone!


The deer antlers were strung up in a tree,

Three of its legs had blown across the street,

It is enough to make a grown man weep.

The Santa sleigh was perched on my neighbours roof,

Any thoughts of my decorating prowess, I now had no proof.


I began to dread the worst,

So I went back inside,

I knew Jan would mention my decorating curse,

Her feelings and mine were about to collide.


In the house I heard Jan scream,

“Gary, come to the kitchen FAST!”

She said she opened the cupboard where we keep our glassware,

And what to her eyes did appear but an avalanche of Tupperware!


I scurried to the kitchen in my duct-taped slippers,

Where I discovered Jan lying down on the floor,

She was buried in a plethora of plastic Tupperware containers,

Various sizes of mismatched bowls, lids and so much more!


The family room is a friggin’ mess — littered with torn paper and half empty glasses,

Bits of food are everywhere and presents galore,

Many of which will be returned to the store.


“Gary, if you go out today please pickup Pepto Bismol,

That brandy-soaked Christmas pudding has made me feel dismal.”


“Jan, I’ll have to find my coat somewhere in this heap,

Without it I’m not getting in our Jeep.

Plus, I cannot find my iPhone, my glasses, nor my keys,

Searching for them is damn hard on my knees!”


“Gary, if I’ve asked once, I have asked you twice,

Before you do anything get rid of your pyjamas,

They are torn and naughty but not nice.”


An hour later I returned from the store and when I walked in our door,

Before my wandering eyes what did I see,

But Jan under the Christmas tree,

Flat on her back on the floor!


“Dear, what happened this time?

And was it caused by yesterdays wine?”


“Gary, I told you when you put up the Christmas tree not to use binder twine!

I tripped over the rope you stretched to the ceiling,

And twisted my back. You have no idea how terrible I am feeling.”


The next thing I knew I was preparing to return to the store,

This time for Epsom salts, extra strength Voltaren, and more.

But once again I was searching for my iPhone, glasses, and keys,

Of course I complained about being down on my knees.


That’s when the phone rang.

Duct cleaners were in our neighbourhood and they had a special rate.

I smashed the phone down which caused it to break!


What happened next is I tripped on the Tupperware.

“Jan, I need a hand to get up from the floor.

For two cents I’d walk out the door!”


It is now mid afternoon. Jan and I are back in bed.

We have heating pads and the bedroom reeks of ointment.

I said, “Jan thank heaven we didn’t have an appointment.”


As I closed my eyes to go back to sleep,

Jan began to weep.

Her tears were from laughter thinking of our disaster.

Her head ached and her back was in pain,

She knew complaining had nothing to gain.


Jan whispered in my ear as she continued to weep,

“Gary if you snore I swear I will walk out the door!”

I said, “Be careful Jan, don’t trip on the decorator pillows scattered on the floor!”