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Dear Aunty Pam,

 

My husband’s family’s 5 year reunion is coming up and I am absolutely dreading it because they are all crazy about playing cornhole. Everybody divides up into teams of 5 and this ‘tournament’ goes on for the entire weekend. 

 

They’re nice people, we all get along, but the thought of making a drive all the way to Kansas to eat bar-b-que all weekend and be parked in front of a stupid cornhole board makes me want to scream. It’s the last thing I want to do, I loathe that stupid game but feel I have to go ahead so as not to rock the boat.

 

Can you think of any way for me to get out of it?

 

Signed,

Cornhole Hating Wife

 

Dear CHW,

 

Unfortunately for you, Aunty Pam has just been watching the fire at one of the 15 nuclear facilities in Ukraine and is bloated with sanctimony.

 

Look, woman, it’s CORNHOLE. It’s a weekend of playing a game you hate, gorging on bar-b-que and cheering repeatedly, “Good for you!” You’re not cowering from explosions as you sit on a concrete floor inside a packed subway, holding your cat, and whatever belongings you could stuff into a duffle bag, capiche?

 

My married friends tell me marriage is full of compromises. I can’t speak with authority, so I defer to them. But I can say that this is 48 hours that you just have to suck it up and be a decent human being without moaning about the torture of corn hole.

 

This is tough love, OK? But Aunty Pam advises that you take a very deep breath and get over yourself—and remember to release the bag when your arm is at a 90 degree angle.

 

Cheers, dear!

Aunty Pam