About a decade ago I was at my mother-in-law’s old house in Kirksville, MO for several days over Christmas. I was bored.
The house was small and all of us were crammed in there in the cold with a Christmas tree, kids’ toys scattered everywhere, a rather large dog, and wall after wall of books. My mother-in-law is a prolific writer. We get along great. (Not sarcasm, for a change.)
My mother-in-law and wife have their holiday traditions, which include watching White Christmas and other old movies, putting up her mom’s old tree and bubble lights, antique shopping, and about a dozen other things where my presence is not needed or requested.