Dear Twelve Days of Christmas guy: what exactly am I supposed to do with all this stuff?

Dear My True Love,

Great, we love each other so much. You're very generous, and as I've recently learned, alarmingly wealthy. But can we just take a quick stroll through the "presents" you've given me over the past couple of weeks? While keeping in mind that I got you a $30 Second Cup gift card?

The first day of Christmas

What's this, a live animal? A bird?? Okay, I mean, I live in a 600-square-foot condo, so it's going to be a bit cramped, but – thanks. This little guy is great. A birdcage would have maybe been helpful, but this pear tree is – well again absurdly enormous and cumbersome, like to the point that the only real space I have for it is directly atop my bed, but I do appreciate your dedication to giving my partridge a natural habitat. Thank you.

The second day of Christmas

Okay, two more birds, for a total of three birds. That's 300% more birds than I had just 48 hours ago. I get it, these birds are turtle doves. No, they're super-beautiful, thank you. Fun fact, though: do partridges and turtle doves get along? When the three of them woke me up shrieking at each other at 4 am, what a fun, live-action way to find out that no they do not! They're mortal enemies and are profoundly threatened by each other! Great!

The third day of Christmas

I. Now. Have. A. Total. Of. Six. Live. Avian. Specimens. In. My. Minuscule. Apartment. Three hens now??? Why?? What's that? Oh, they're French? Oh, good. Their nationality is very important. This way they'll understand when I stress-eat four full-length baguettes because I'm in no way equipped – logistically or emotionally – to care for this absurd and very sudden quantity of birds.

The fourth day of Christmas

WONDERFUL! Calling birds! For a moment I was afraid my apartment was going to be too quiet with the SIX WHOLE OTHER BIRDS you bought me. PLEASE. LOOK AT ME IN MY EYES. STOP WITH THE BIRDS. I BEG YOU SO HARD.

The fifth day of Christmas

Well at least we've taken a brief, and yet hopefully permanent, breather from the birds. Five gold rings! What is this, one for each finger?? At the same time, though? I'm not a pimp. So.

The sixth day of Christmas

GEESE NOW?! I officially and desperately miss the days of being a pimp. There's literal shit all over my apartment and PETA has been protesting outside my window every day for the past week. All right look, pal: are you my true love? Or do you in fact hate me tremendously and want to see me in the throes of a nervous collapse???

The seventh day of Christmas

Seven swans a-swimming. Not only has my life turned into a nightmarish Hitchcock movie outtake, I can't use my bathtub anymore, or my kitchen sink, or my condo's pool. I'm dirty and forced to eat every meal off of napkins. Is Christmas an appropriate time to ruthlessly question the future of our relationship? JUST CASUALLY WONDERING.

The eighth day of Christmas

Yes hi, hello, it's just that eight awkwardly gift-wrapped women with cows showed up at my door this morning, demanding a place to live from now into their old age. This is just straight-up human trafficking, buddy. You can't give someone eight of someone else. How did you even broach this with these women?? Better question: WHY DID THEY AGREE.

The ninth day of Christmas

Nine drummers drumming. Nine of them. Nine. I'm doing what I have to do to survive. I set up a speed dating event in my living room with the eight maids a-milking in the hopes that some of them will fall in love and move out, but UGH, there's one drummer awkwardly left over. Brett. He's not even that good. Also, he desperately needs a shower but again, good luck getting past Swan Lake. Tomorrow had better be Ten Fistfuls of Advil, I swear to god.

The tenth day of Christmas

Okay look, asshole. Here are the only acceptable genres of pipers: Ten Pipers Sleeping; Ten Pipers Quietly Sitting Around; Ten Pipers Leaving. You, however, have sent me Ten Pipers Piping and so this relationship is 400% finished.

The eleventh day of Christmas

All right, to be honest I've actually been having a pretty fun time with these dancing ladies. Check it out: when they walked in here, all they knew was three different hymns on the lute. Then I played some Beyoncé and it completely blew their minds. Then we did some shots and started weeping about how much we love each other. Ugh! Women! Anyway, our relationship is back on. You really redeemed yourself today. I'm sorry and I love you.

The twelfth day of Christmas

Nope, I take that back immediately and super-hard. Who are these twelve jerks, why do they demand to be called "lords" and are they aware that leaping everywhere is a hugely inefficient form of transportation, just from an energy-conservation perspective???

Just to sum up, true love, I've had 137 noise complaints today alone and the cops have been by my place six times in the past hour. I've eaten nothing but omelets for the past ten days – off of napkins, I might add – and I'm being evicted from my apartment first thing tomorrow morning. I've been driven to the darkest and outermost edges of sanity and I'm extremely hung-over.

You and I need to talk.

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