I’m normally the first one to rattle off a bah-humbug as Christmas inches its way onto my to-do list.
I’m sure I started out liking Christmas. What kid doesn’t like Christmas? But somewhere along the line I turned on the holiday season. I’ll stop short of saying I came to hate the holidays, but I wouldn’t protest if they ceased to exist either.
In my humble opinion, it’s just all too much. Much too much. Too many scheduling problems and too much money spent. Too many unwanted gifts and too many Christmas lights. Too many giant inflatable decorations scarring the landscape.
By mid-December I find myself pulling at my hair and shouting for all of it to stop. Stop the lights from blinking. Stop taking over my radio station with your incessant holiday ditties.
Stop the insanity! (I’ll give a cookie to any reader who emails me with the name of the person who coined that phrase. Note: I don’t actually have any cookies.)
I think it all became this big obligation to me so I just started going through the motions. I’d see my sister breaking out the Christmas CDs in her car even before she’d finish her children’s Halloween costumes. She’s outside stringing lights on every crook and crease she can find before all the trick or treat candy has been eaten. She’s dreaming about holiday baking and putting up the Christmas tree before Thanksgiving. She’s a maniac.
But something is different this year. I am looking forward to hosting family for Thanksgiving. I’m already planning the menu. I have been resisting the urge to put up my Christmas tree for over a week.
I blame the Delta Theta Chi Sorority. This is all their fault.