So you're finally going to get a holiday, after this brutal, thankless, long, hard, downgraded, redheaded stepchild of a year, in which we've all earned less, and worked more, unless you're a Zupta, then it's been the other way around. But here's the deal, because this is South Africa, and because captcha isn't just the code you type into the computer to prove you're not a robot, there's a Holiday Tax. And all of us have to pay it.
It's OK, we know you're skint after Black Friday, Oh-Bugger-Why-Did-I-Buy-That Saturday and Gone-Into-Liquidation-But-At-Least-I've-Got-A-Lifetime-Supply-of-Loo-Roll Sunday, don't stress, Holiday Tax doesn't come in the form of a financial expense.
Not directly, although a lot of us will choose to throw money at the problem in the form of a hotel room, to avoid a blow-up mattress on the floor in the lounge (and resulting chiropractic appointments), because baby Terryn HAS to sleep in your old room, because if she doesn't have four walls in a room of her own and an en-suite when she sleeps, she feels insecure.
And if you're not throwing cash at a hotel room, or a chiropractor, it's just the therapy that will cost you down the line.So while there is some money involved, more often than not your Holiday Tax will come in the form of emotional, physical or psychological expenses. Because unlike the other holidays you may get to go on throughout the year, with people of your choosing, if that's the world you live in, December holidays come with one catch. Family.
Drunk uncles, annoying sisters-in-law, mothers who (whether on purpose or by default) know exactly what to say to make you feel bad about yourself. Fathers who, oh I only have a few hundred words left, let's not get into what fathers do.You try managing the seating arrangements for that hot mess and see how far it gets you.
The universe is smart, there's a reason December's festive holidays only come around once a year, and then there are 11 months for recovery before the next one. The universe knows that's statistically how long family members need to forget a grudge and feel able to be in the same room together long enough to brew a new one.
The only cruel truth is that the older you get, the quicker the years go by and the less time you have to get over yourself.
Or maybe that's just us, and your family is delicious, and you all love each other unconditionally, and you still call your dad "daddy", even though you're 46 and should know better. And you never fight with your siblings, because they're so special to you and this is such an important time together, and you want to treasure every second. Shame.Although I'm afraid to say, even you smuggies have to pay a Holiday Tax. Sure yours might come in the form of that extra 5kg you carry home with you in January, from all that smug and Christmas cake you ate while you were deep in the welcoming bosom of your big, loving, ridiculously happy family. Or your Holiday Tax might be a four-day hangover, or sunburn, or a urinary tract infection if you go camping, or simply that you have to wait a whole year before you get to see each other again. Boo hoo hoo for you!
Tax is tax and as SARS tells us, we've all got to pay it. Just some more than others.
Ho ho ho, happy holidays.
(PS: Love you fam, can't wait to see you. Oh who am I kidding, they don't read my columns.)..