The first Thanksgiving

"I've always had these fantasies about being in a normal family in which the parents come to town and their adult daughter spends their entire visit daydreaming of suicide," wrote Sarah Vowell. "I'm here to tell you that dreams really do come true."

My parents are coming to town for Thanksgiving this year. They are staying at my house. My brother and his baby will not be there as a buffer because they are spending Thanksgiving with his wife in Maryland.

I'm close to an panic attack for the first time since I moved to DC and started taking anti-anxiety drugs.

Why do they put Thanksgiving and Christmas so close together? It only gives you a month to recover before you have to see the family all over again. I have been trying to weasel my way out of Thanksgiving for years now, but somehow my plans always backfire. This year I signed up to work on the Saturday after Thanksgiving and to volunteer at Jen's Trot for Hunger 5K on Thanksgiving morning. Sorry, no time to drive to Hampton! Guess I'll only make it back for Christmas this year.

What happens instead? My brother decides to move to a new house last weekend, so Mom comes up and stays with me so she can babysit. Then she decides to come up and spend Thanksgiving with me since I'm to busy to make it down to her house. And I'm still booked for four days at their house for Christmas. I engineered my life so I'd only have to see my mother once during the holiday season, but instead I wind up seeing her three times. And four days out of seven this week she's staying at my house, which is 11 feet wide.

At least Dad will be here this time. I get along great with Dad. Dad never tells me I'm chubby, complains for hours about how much he hates the city I live in, calls my house a dump, or tells me how stupid it is that I'm a vegetarian. I love Dad.

And I love Mom. I really do. And I know she loves me. But we only get along when she's far away.

Current music: Ohmega Watts - "Stay Tuned"