Not down the interstate. Down into the ground.

This year, my Christmas card isn’t going to read “I’ll be home for Christmas.” It’s going to read:

| Home | Hole | |------|------| | Requires cleaning | Requires only a flashlight | | Guests may appear | Guests cannot fit | | Expected to cook | Expected to survive on cheese and crackers | | Emotional labor | Emotional dirt (easy to sweep away) |

So this year, when someone asks where you’ll be for the holidays, smile.

Let’s be honest with ourselves. The holidays are relentless. Between the airport chaos, the forced family harmonies, and the expectation to radiate joy like a human menorah, sometimes the most appealing travel plan is downward.