Every holiday, we make a trek to the in-laws. This is a chore unto itself, but on gift-giving holidays we always have the added bonus of trying to be polite in receiving some kind of unwanted tchotchke of affection. We have nothing against tchotchkes per se, but the kind that come from dear spouse's parental units are beyond useless, with a kind of satanic sweetness that sets your teeth on edge. Yesterday's gift of pain was a ceramic pair of bunny rabbits, because nothing says "Praise Jesus" like bunnies in bows.
Jeebus help me.
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