Tired of Seattlites’ endless, ungrateful complaints about their families during the holiday season, Frasier begins jotting down a “naughty” list of particularly odious callers, co-workers and vaguely grouchy-looking passersby for whom a very personal Christmas Eve “house call” may be in the books. Martin laments the luxury condo lifestyle after becoming nostalgically fixated on the idea of tarring and re-shingling a roof. Roz tries to cheer up a recently-divorced Kenny by encouraging him to deliver gifts to underprivileged families. Daphne’s attempts to save time holiday shopping by cutting through various sidestreets are hampered by implausibly frequent encounters with unmapped cul-de-sacs.

Encountering yet another dead end at the end of a filthy cobblestone road, Daphne takes a page from her old chimney-sweep uncle’s book and scales a series of pigeon-dropping-encrusted stovepipes and crumbling eaves to the top of a low townhouse, only to discover both Frasier and Kenny gruesomely bonded to the roof in a bubbling mess of fresh black tar, Kenny dressed in a cheap polyester Santa Claus outfit, Dr. Crane cloaked in dark furs with a luxuriously-enameled set of antique alpine ibex horns weighing heavily on his head, both still clawing their way towards the nearest chimney with rival glares of madness, as if depending on this one self-actualizing act to redeem the entire holiday season. Daphne cautiously extends a long sweepsbroom to within reach of one of the men, but the camera angle makes it unclear as to which.

During a crowded holiday-themed week at Nervosa, Niles keeps getting stuck with a beautiful but impractical chair made entirely of antlers. He sighs, ultimately taking a pained seat among its prongs and staring out the frosted window into the moonlit streets outside, toasting himself to the notion that, while far from inspired as furniture, on Christmas Eve it’s perhaps the thought that counts, and hopefully better than nothing.