Face like thunder she stomps in the house and bangs the bags on the table. "Bloody Christmas, "I hate it. Why is it always me who has to do everything?" Her husband shakes his paper out and carries on reading trying to pretend all is well. "Go on, sit there reading your paper and let me do it all for you. Christmas is for you too you know. You could do something to help."
From experience, the husband knows to sit it out quietly. In a minute she'll have blown it all out of her system and then he can offer to make her a cup of tea. If he does it now, he'll be told he's in her way as she unpacks it all. The same thing happens every year. She comes back from town having done some shopping, overdoes it trudging around trying to find 'just the right thing' for everyone whereas all men know that isn't necessary. Any present will do, after all, a gift is a gift isn't it. It's the thought that counts not what you actually buy. Women make such a fuss about it all and make hard work for themselves. Left to him, it would all be done with no fuss and it would be done a lot quicker and more efficiently.
It's like the tree. Help out she says, how can he when all he's allowed to do is help get things down from the attic. Once that's done he's told to leave it alone as he hasn't a clue how to do it properly. He has to sit and watch her do the tree while she moans all the way through it saying how lazy he is. You can't win with women. If you offer to help you're told you can't do it properly and if you don't offer, you're told you're useless or lazy. Suddenly a shout comes from the kitchen. "I'd love a cup of tea. You can't even fo that can you? You've been sitting here in the warm relaxing all afternoon while I do all the shopping and you can't even offer me a cup of tea when I get in having done it all for you."
Sighing inwardly, he puts the paper down and wanders into the kitchen, fills the kettle and switches it on. As he goes to the cupboard to get out some cups he has to ask her to move as she's in the way. She's standing in front of it unpacking bags. "Can't you see I'm busy. Why do I have to move? Oh, get out of the kitchen, you can't do anything without making a fuss can you?"
With that, he has had enough. He storms out the back door picking up his back door keys on the way. He's off. So much for the joy of Christmas. Thank God it's only another few days till it's all over and normality resumes. Next year he'll insist on doing the shopping for everyone himself and he'll do it the way he does his own shopping every year. Wait till Christmas Eve and do it all at once. After all, the girls in the shops are so helpful at telling him what's needed and what his wife, mother and sisters would like that it takes no time at all. The fact he always seems to buy the wrong thing isn't his or the salesgirls fault, it everyone being too fussy again. You just can't please some women.
No, next year, he'll do all the shopping for everyone, decorate the tree, buy the food and that way, maybe they can all have a peaceful and happy Christmas for a change. After all, it takes his wife weeks to do all of those things when he knows he can do it in one day - food in the morning presents in the afternoon. Simple isn't it? With that thought in mind, he stomps off to the pub to join the other men who have all come to the same conclusion.