If you’re one of those people who can’t wait to spend countless hours sequestered with your family on Thanksgiving, you can stop reading. (For the record: we’re a tad envious.)
And if you happen to be one of those people who would never, ever tell a self-serving little white lie, you can also stop reading. (For the record: we admire you. You’re also a total unicorn.)
If you are one of the masses (like us) who are looking forward to seeing all of your relatives on Turkey Day, but will start feeling like enough is enough by the time the Cowboys kick off against the Chargers at 4:30, by all means, keep reading.
Making an early exit on Thanksgiving can be a matter of self-preservation, but who wants to hurt their loved ones’ feelings? Not us. And telling a major fib about a fabricated catastrophe is just bad juju. No; the graceful, premature departure requires a touch of fairly harmless creativity.
Not tonight, dear family. I have a headache.
When the Monopoly board makes its annual appearance, the time to get out is before the four-hour marathon begins. Heartfelt hugs all around as you visibly reach for the Advil and bid everyone a fond farewell.
A friend in need really is a friend indeed.
Feign having a friend who suddenly has a benign, but undeniable, need. Their return flight was delayed and you have to head to their place to walk Fido. They over-imbibed, and you had made an earlier arrangement to act as their DD. You get the idea. You also end up looking like an all-around good person.
All hail the early-morning interview.
You have an interview for your dream job tomorrow morning and want to make sure you’re well rested. No parent can argue with that. Bonus points for the sympathy you’ll get when you are mysteriously “passed over” for said job.
Black Friday is the best thing … ever.
After many years of speaking disdainfully of people who queue up for deals at 12:01 a.m. on Black Friday, you’ve had a change of heart. Funds are low, but because you’re determined to select the perfect present for every Cousin Tom, Uncle Dick and Aunt Harriet, you’re willing to make the sacrifice.
Print out a copy of this and, when you start to think there really is such a thing as “too much togetherness,” you’ll be on your way in no time.
Top Photo: Jennifer Kain DeFoe