I’m going home for the holidays and I’m going to bring… my pajamas.
How fast can I be by the fireplace, sipping on eggnog and drifting to sleep with the Frank Sinatra Christmas album on repeat? Confession: Thanksgiving hasn’t even started yet and my brain is already thinking about my Netflix queue.
Instead of packing gifts (anyone hear of Amazon?), pack the things that really matter. Like patience to explain to Grandma why you’re still single.
- Holiday playlist (see Otis Redding. Is Mariah Carey is still making royalties off that one song?).
- Luggage tags.
- Portable battery.
- Hotspot (or phone).
- A book you never have time to read.
- Pajamas. Lots of ‘em.
- Old, expandable clothes for
eatingwiping the whip cream stain off.
- Tide To Go Pen.
- Pinterest recipes you’ll fail miserably at. Proving to the family you picked the wrong career, screwed up the 401(k) and thus you will now die alone. Have you thought about freezing your eggs? All because there is frosting all over half the kitchen counter instead of something that’s supposed to be a turkey’s butt.
- Nice clothes. In the case you actually have a life, a significant other and cool holiday parties to go to. Sigh.
- Mini liquor bottles. I’ll need more than eggnog to survive.
- Space for tupperware.
Because going to the folks is like going to the best hotel ever.
- Basic toiletries like shampoo, conditioner, soap, etc.
- Laundry bag. Thanks, Mom.
- Heels — see pajamas
- Clothes for leaving the house — see pajamas, laundry bag
Someone fetch me my red plaid pajama set and Santa hat while I mix up this Swiss Miss.
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