Covid-Obsessed Wash Post: Planning the Worst Christmas Dinner Ever

C’mon, fess up. You’re not really looking forward to seeing the relatives at Christmas. Your passive aggressive mother-in-law, your green-haired sister and her latest excon boyfriend, Uncle Joe sniffing the little girls’ hair – it’s all too much.

Fortunately, there’s still enough Covid or Covid terror around to give you an out. Make sure you and your family understand your fear of the virus when planning your holiday dinner.

How? The Washington Post suggests some “Questions to ask your relatives before gathering for an indoor holiday meal.” These inquiries are guaranteed to both insult your family members and to convince them that you’re apt to wet yourself if somebody accidentally brushes your sleeve. Only the most militant of Christmas revelers could endure these questions without saying, “You know, let’s just forget it. See you at the July 4th BBQ.”

“What precautions do you plan to take and would you like others to do the same?”

Personal flotation devices and body armor. Protective cups are recommended for male guests.

“Are you fully vaccinated? Have you received a booster shot?”

I am able to walk with an IV drip of vaccination, which is a great thing.

“Are you traveling from an area with a high coronavirus transmission rate or low vaccination rate?”

We were all vaxed by the warden and required to wear masks in every area, including the exercise yard.

“Do you have a high-risk medical condition that puts you at risk of severe covid-19?”

My health is in serious decline and this could be the last time I see anyone before my final check-out.

“In the two weeks leading up to the gathering, will you limit exposure by skipping higher-risk activities like eating at indoor restaurants or interacting with unvaccinated people?”

Sure, but don’t you  think the ankle monitor is a bit much?

“Do you agree to get tested a few days before the party?”

Are you interested in having the results certified?

“If the group decides to require masks when not eating, will you keep yours on?”

You can, but only if you want to conceal that condescending smirk every conversation provokes.

“Will you let everyone know if you have any symptoms two weeks before the party or if you’ve been exposed to someone who has tested positive for the coronavirus?”

I would relish the opportunity to spread panic and sow fear.

“If you don’t feel well the day of the gathering, do you agree to stay home?”

You miss the joy?