Sunday, December 18, 2011

Confession Time: Life on the Naughty List

Here I am again...on the Naughty List.

It is December 18th and I have not bought any Christmas presents.




First, because my children are now young adults, and are beyond impossible to by for, ( "I don't know. Suprise me. Just give me the money. Go to hell...") but mainly because I just have no Christmas spirit.

I don't have a tree up. I really hate putting a tree up, because you have to take it down. It's a big hassel. Why bother? There is also furniture arranging, and being inconvienced for 10 days.

Yes, I said 10 days. I really believe that is all that is necessary. Any longer and I get a little stir crazy. I can blame my local retailers for that. "Never too early to shop for Christmas!" I've actually been Christmas-ed out since mid November.

Speaking of which, remember when Christmas started AFTER Thanksgiving? It seems like it's getting earlier and earlier each year. When they started putting out Christmas decorations on one side of the aisle and pool toys on the other, it is time for an intervention! That used to be the best part of Thanksgiving. Eating a good Thanksgiving meal, collapsing in a carb-induced coma, and awakening, at a reasonable hour, on Black Friday to shop in a mall, magically transformed overnight into a Winter Wonderland, is one of my fondest memories.

And the non-stop Christmas music, which also starts about 3 weeks too early. What sadistic yahoo thought THAT was a good idea. They say suicides increase at this time of year. Non-stop Christmas music is surely the cause. There are only so many Christmas songs. How many different ways can you hear "Sleigh Ride" in one eight hour day?

Yeah, I know this rant is pretty much the same as last year's. But really, the complaints are the same.

It's not even Jesus's real birthday. According to scholars, it's actually some time around April. It's just the time we celebrate it because it coincides with some pagan holiday. Now people who aren't even believers celebrate it too.

Christmas is no longer magical, or beautiful, or special.

Next year, maybe I can sleep through it.

Bah Humbug

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