I've had all I can stand, I can't take anymore:
Then in walks my husband, spilling rum on the floor.

He heaves and he wobbles, his balance unsteady;
Then grins as he chuckles, "The eggnog is ready!"

He looks all around with total regret,
Says "What's taking you so long, aren't you through yet?"

As quick as a flash I reach for a knife;
He loses an earlobe: I wanted his life!

He flees from the room in terror and pain,
and screams "My gosh woman, your're going insane."

Now what was I doing and what is that smell?
Oh damn, it's the pies? They're all black right down to the shell.

I hate to admit when I make a mistake,
But I put them on BROIL instead of on BAKE.

What else can go wrong? Is there still more ahead?
If this is good livin', I would rather be dead.

Lord, don't get me wrong, I love holidays;
They just leave me exhausted, all shake and dazed.

But I promise you one thing, if I live 'til next year,
you won't find me pulling my hair out in here.

I'll hire a maid, a cook, and a waiter;
and if that doesn't work, I'll have it all catered!

(with thanks to Heartjammin' Diva Judy for sending us this sentiment!)