Bah, Humbug

'Tis the season, again. Already. And, I don't mind telling you that I really, really, really don't like it. It's the same, or worse, every year. People run around frantically, buying, buying, buying and getting stressed out because nothing ever seems to be enough. This present is kind of cheesy, you decide, so you go out in search of something to make up for it. When you buy that person another present, suddenly, there are several more to buy because heaven forbid one of the kids should get more presents than the others.

Maybe you like to brag, as I used to, that you finished all your shopping and wrapped everything before Thanksgiving. But, then what happens? You have a whole month or more to think about what you bought, and become dissatisfied with some of it. So, a few days before Christmas, or worse, on Christmas Eve, you hit the mall searching for just one more present for everybody.

In the meantime, you've decorated your home or spent even more money hiring someone to decorate it for you. By the time you or your decorator are through, the house is lit up like Las Vegas, and every bit as garish. Even so, somehow, it doesn't seem to be enough.

And, on to the feast. Somehow, you have to find time to bake pies and cookies. You know what everyone likes, so you make all their favorites. Somehow, some ingredient is always forgotten, so it's back to the grocery store, battling the hordes of people who are also looking for something forgotten.

Christmas Eve, at last, and you sink into your chair, satisfied that you have done everything humanly possible to make sure that everyone has a great time. Something nags at you. What have you forgotten? Maybe it's not very important, you hope. You get ready for bed, anticipating all those visions of sugarplums. You toss and turn for a while, too exhausted to sleep, and before you know it, it's Christmas morning and you roll out of bed, put on the coffee, and start cooking breakfast, and get the turkey/ham/roast beast ready for the oven.

By noon, the carefully decorated house resembles an explosion in a Christmas wrapping paper factory. Most of the presents sit opened under the tree, and everyone is sitting around looking shell-shocked. At this point, the orgy of excess and greed is over. After the Christmas feast, it's nap time - but not for you. You begin to gather up all the wrapping paper and stuff the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Finally, you stagger to your chair for that long winter's nap that you didn't get last night.

Your New Year's Resolution: We'll pare back next year. No more wretched excess. Simplify, simplify, simplify. So, cheers and Happy New Year!

And, next Christmas will be even better.