The goose, not the holiday.
Am I a wuss for deciding not to be present?
Are we wusses for being so daunted by the prospect of wrestling a large, mean goose for its very life that we had our friend shoot it with a shotgun?
I am told I have a monstrous plucking job in front of me...but it's a chilly day, so we'll let the weather keep our goose cold for us while we have a cozy, unrelated dinner. I'll deal with the pre-holiday carcass-wrangling this evening.