Yup, I’m calling it like I see it. Every damned year I plan and plan. I have grand designs on how the holidays will be and what I can do to make everyone’s dreams come true. It will cross my mind every now and again, sparking a plan. Then due to some brain abnormality or hidden psychosis, on or about the beginning of the school year, I gradually start forgetting that Christmas even exists.
Is this some form of survival instinct? Some primeval brain function that keeps me from decorating in October and making dozens of fruitcakes? Have we genetically progressed to the point where we do not feel forced to wear snowman embroidered sweatshirts everyday paired with dangly bells hanging from our earlobes?
Or is it that I am missing some fundamental gene that makes me able to have my shopping done by November first and thus allowing myself time to bake homemade cookies frosted with red and green sprinkles to hand out to one and all? Am I missing the festivity gene?
Assuming that there is nothing wrong with me (I always assume this), then the logical conclusion would be that there is something wrong with Christmas. There is a flaw in the scheduling or some sort of magical holiday hypnosis that occurs that causes me to whistle my way through fall until Thanksgiving lands right in my lap. Suddenly there’s talk of Black Friday and everyone is fighting over the sale ads in the newspaper. There is a sudden onslaught of phone calls to schedule family dinners, company parties, drinks out with friends and school Christmas plays.
Once again, Christmas has gotten all ninja on my ass and it’s game on, bitch. Damn
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