I failed on Xmas Airbnb, now holidays are ruined
TO the sea, or not to the sea, that is the question - whether to pay almost $3000 for a few days in Byron Bay, or to stay home and suffer.
Well done to those amazingly organised people who got on Airbnb in August, locked in their beach house and are now counting down the days to cheese platters on the breezy deck and morning swims in the ocean.
I'm jealous of you, as back in August summer wasn't on my mind at all. I was still caught up in Ekka fever, and planning where I'd eat my Christmas ham wasn't a concern.
For some reason, I thought that gorgeous and affordable holiday homes would still be available in early December. I was very wrong.
So now I have to accept that Christmas Day will be spent at home and I won't be having a Donna Hay moment, swanning around my subtropical holiday home, draped in Country Road linen, setting down large plates of barbecued seafood in front of family and friends.
Instead, I'll be in suburban Brisbane, with no aircon, trying to fit my adult frame into a blow-up kids' pool and hoping my oven holds out for another day.
I love Christmas, but I don't care that much for summer. Christmas is about food, so obviously I'm a fan.
Summer, though, just isn't my season. I last at the beach about as long as an unattended Icy Pole. I hate the feeling of sand stuck to me and I don't care much for being hot. Yes, I know I should hand in my Queensland membership now.
My Christmas menu is still in the planning. I'll have the classics on hand: prawns, roast something or other, salads and drinks, plenty of.
I think it's best to keep the menu simple and don't be a hero. It's OK to buy some things to prop up your day.
I always buy dessert and whatever else I feel I can get away with. I don't lie and pretend I made the four-layer Black Forest gateau, but unless you ask specifically I won't volunteer the information.
Christmas is also a bit sad for me too.
I'm not sure why but every Christmas night a bit of a sadness comes up and I miss my departed grandparents, and I miss being a kid at Christmas.
But most of all I miss remembering to buy a pump, so blowing up the inflatable pool doesn't take until Boxing Day.
Mel Buttle is a Brisbane comedian