While I do enjoy expressing all that I’m grateful for, there’s nothing that quite warms my soul like the annual Festivus Airing of Grievances. I guess I’m traditional that way. And while this is a *smidge* late, we know Letters & Lists follows its own timeline, where Thanksgiving is in early December and so is my birthday. So while Festivus was last week, we’re celebrating now, on New Year’s Eve. I’ll probably share my best/worst of 2025 sometime in early January (knock on wood).
I want you to know that I did celebrate on actual Festivus though. First, I performed some feats of strength, mainly planning a 10-day European trip for my family with little to no help and then managing not to punch said family in the face when they complained about the things I planned. Also, I packed for TEN DAYS in a single carryon bag, which may not seem like a feat of strength to you, but is the equivalent of lifting a small car for me.
But now, let’s get to the good part: the airing of grievances.
This sign
We live in the city. I walk my dogs in the park but we have to walk a few blocks to get there, including past this sign. The audacity of these people. First of all, my dogs can’t read, so they don’t understand why I hustle them past this house like it’s haunted. Secondly, as you can see in the pic, there is no grass in sight. And what’s really disrespectful is expecting my dogs to bypass your pile of dirt and leaves and hold their pee in like they’re me on a 2-hour road trip. What’s gonna happen if Rosie does her little handstand pee on your dead leaves, huh, bro?
Salt paws mushers
A letter within a list:
Dear City Salters,
Could you take it fucking easy with the salt? We don’t need packaged ramen levels of sodium on every square foot of the sidewalks of Boston. I would love for you to look in my little dogs’ faces while they attempt to limp on three paws and tell them why you thought you needed to go all Pol Pot on their paws. And for those of you who say, “Put them in dog boots,” you are cordially invited to come over and try to get my dogs to wear dog boots.
The TD bank interface
Maybe I’m biased because I have a bank as a client (shout out to the immaculate Frost Bank) and we agonize over every little bit of the user experience, but sweet Jesus the TD Bank website is painful. Would I like to pay my credit card bill in the amount I just entered on the date I just typed, TD Bank? Why, yes, yes I would. How should I let you know? Should I scroll 400 feet down and 37 inches to the right on this webpage to the button that says submit and then click it again? And to make sure I understand, if I don’t do that, you will disregard all the info I just painstakingly entered? Awesome, thanks. Also, if you could change the stock image of the blond lady smiling while typing on her laptop that you’ve had for the last 5 years, that’d be great.
Everyone around me on the red eye flight to London
Guys, not to brag, but I’m a professional sleeper. I once fell asleep on the metal bleachers at a water polo tournament with people cheering on the stands around me. So when I found out that I had an aisle seat, separated from my family, I thought I had this in the bag. But the little Indian grandma next to me had other ideas, namely snoring louder than my husband does and randomly elbowing me in 15-20 minute intervals. There was also Fully Grown Woman who put her knees on the back of my seat and stretched like a toddler and Laughing Woman who had a wonderful laugh I would normally cherish but found unwelcome at 11 pm EST/4 am London time. This dream team of airplane seat mates insured that I would only get about 3 hours of fitful sleep before we had to hit the ground running in London. I still did better than my kids though, who fell asleep at the bar at Hyde Park Winter Wonderland, dinner at Dishoom, and on various underground train rides.
The dick at the Premier League game who called my kids “little dicks”
Now I only heard this second hand, but according to Hazel, George knocked into a disabled person in a crowd at this game, and in his obliviousness, did not apologize. Some random person behind them muttered something about them being “little dicks.” First of all, I’m sure it was an accident. George may be physically and socially unaware at times, but he is not malicious. Secondly, only I get to call my kids little dicks, you dick.
Meta
I already wrote a whole letter about this, but I’m still bitter that you accused me of being a pedo.
WordleBot
Oh, is it “not the guess you would’ve made,” WB? You know what the guess I would make is? It’s that you’re a douche with little rhyme nor reason as to how you make your judgments. Also, it took me months to figure out that Wordle never ends with an S and one time your 99 skill word ended in an S. Here’s a 6-letter word for you, WordleBot. WHATTF?
TSA pre-check/Clear
If I had a dollar for every time I misread the incredibly confusing signs for Clear + TSA pre-check and got in the wrong line or waited in the pre-check line only to discover that my boarding pass didn’t reflect my pre-check status, I’d have quite a bit of money, but still not enough to cover the cost of Clear that I got hornswoggled into paying for when an official looking airport person waved me into the Clear line and tricked me into registering for a free trial period. In retrospect, this grievance could also be about me being an idiot.
The Trump Administration + Congress
There is so much to be said that I couldn’t possibly write it all here, but sweet Jesus I am so tired of the never ending bullshit spewing from this administration and the irreparable damage it has done to our country’s standing in the world.
The time/space continuum
Why do some things seem to take forever (waiting for Boarding Group 5) yet somehow my kids went from being little kids to being fully formed people who are taller than me and take the subway into the city by themselves on New Year’s Eve?
Happy Festivus and happy New Year! May we all have fewer grievances to air in 2026.
Letters & Lists 