The day before Christmas I was standing in line at the Safeway Deli. The man three standees ahead of me was ordering pot stickers by some identification system all his own. “No, not that one … the one to the left, behind it … no … no … THAT’S IT!!!”

Now, I realize that penguin mothers can pick out their own chicks via some magic too complex for us to contemplate. And no two snowflakes are alike. But this is pot stickers, for God’s sake, not the mysteries of the universe. And it was Christmas Eve Day when all of us have too much to try to shove into our stockings already without waiting for the doughboy to devise his final answer. I wanted to drop him in a vat of boiling acid. The deli clerk would have helped. It was a bad moment.

Which leads me to wonder about the ratio of bad-to-good moments created by the holidays. Is one glittery morning worth one bad moment … five … ten? How many missed connections and lost bags and icy drives and wretched carols equal one child smile? How much credit card debt equals one Silent Night?

For a year, we plant our communal nose smack dab on that grindstone and don’t look up at all costs. We drive ourselves into a frenzy until all comfort and spirit and fellowship is lost. There is no ratio between bad to good, because we will put ourselves through absolutely anything in order to celebrate that one shining moment.

Please forgive me for hating you, Pot Sticker Man. Go ahead and take your time.