It’s that time of year again. This is, it’s time to start planning the annual 21-hour drive to visit my family for Christmas. It seems it’s my lot in life to take on this gruelling task year after year, without fail.
Why should it always be me who has to do it? To be fair, all four of my siblings live up in Queensland near my parents, and it was technically my decision to set up shop in Victoria. Still, I’ve done this seven years running now, and I don’t think it’s too much to ask for them to come down here just this once.
One year in eight: that’s all I’m asking. But they won’t do it, and then I won’t see them, and then I’ll feel bad for not going up. It’s a catch 22. I just wish they’d chip in somehow – like, maybe they could split the cost of the fuel with me. Or they could pay for the suspension repair I’m going to have to pay for in a couple of weeks, ahead of the long drive.
You know, given that I have to give up two days of work for each leg of the journey, as well as for the duration of my stay, I think it’s only fair that my family pays a significant portion of my car’s running costs. This is just occurring to me now, as I’m writing it. Maybe this is my ticket to finally getting the air con fixed. I know there’s got to be at least one auto electrician in Underwood, where my parents live… maybe I can feign that the unit conked out on my way up. The truth is that it’s been out of order for months, but it’d be a white lie.
I mean, car air con repairs aren’t exactly the cheapest thing in the world, which is why I’ve been putting it off. And given that I’m going to be driving to Queensland in December with no air conditioning, I think it’s the least my family could do.