Another Christmas ends not with a bang (thankfully), but with a whimper. An “I wanna go to bed,” whimper actually. The whimper might have been coming from me, or from my three year old, it was hard to tell. In any event, I’m ready to clear this holiday out. I enjoy many aspects of the holiday – small traditions like cutting down a tree and decorating it with ornaments that come with their stories, visiting extended family, and baking together. Strangely enough, I’m also a huge fan of Christmas movies and music. Huge. But I’m not a fan of all the “extra” events that get heaped into this season. I loathe the holiday party and will do nearly anything to get out of going to them.
It seems counterintuitive to drag yourself out into the night, waiting in vain for your car to warm up because you cheaped out and didn’t get the one with the seat warmers, holding a shiny hostess gift bag in your hands and wearing some velvet accessory or another…I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Actually I’m exhausted from traveling with children for two days, and then wrapping gifts and assembling toys into the wee hours of the night last night upon our return, but I digress. I do think there’s something pathological about all this forced merriment during the darkest time of the year. Those of us who live in the northeast should really be put on IV drips of vitamin D (and perhaps some Prozac) for 4 months out of the year. We should have those lamps that mimic the solar rays installed in our cars, bathrooms, and workplaces. Then maybe I’d feel like socializing with people, but until then, what I’d really love to do is crawl into a warm, puffy cave somewhere and sleep until June.