Christmas used to bring such joy, back in the day. It truly was, for the most part, the most wonderful time of the year. These days, not so much. I’ve been trying to narrow it down, the last couple of revolutions around the sun, exactly when Christmas stopped being fun, or at least as fun as the season once was.

At first, I thought it might be a nostalgia thing. Like most things, holidays were more enjoyable as a child. Being a kid meant not having a care in the world. You weren’t expected to buy gifts, instead, you just showed up at the tree come Christmas morning. You had to create a couple of gifts, sure, but your teacher was making you do that anyways. My parents were overjoyed to get lousy pottery made with love. Candy also seemed to taste better, I can’t handle it the way I used to. But I don’t think nostalgia is the root of my Christmas woes.

Maybe it’s the stress. The malls are packed with shoppers, and heading out to buy gifts is a nightmare. Everyone is on edge, grinding their teeth at the thought of having to brace the masses in order to find the perfect present for that perfect someone. Can’t be that, though. Not for me at least. Kat and myself are making our gifts this year like we did last year, and I can only see the tradition continuing. Instead of a crappy macaroni card, my mom is getting straight up crappy homemade macaroni.

Why was I feeling burnt out? Why is everyone around me, loved ones, friends, and coworkers, tired of Christmas? I mulled it over some hot cocoa and Irish cream, because nothing helps the blues like alcohol does. I check the calendar and realized it’s only the 14th of December. Hasn’t Christmas been on the radar longer than fourteen days?

That’s because we’ve been celebrating Christmas since November 1st. The day after Halloween, the pumpkins go down and the trees come up. We’re now celebrating the holidays for one-sixth of the year. Christmas is now soaking close to twenty percent of my time. I love a good party. But two months of Christmas music, of shopping, of bright lights. I can’t take it any longer.

Even a month is pushing it. A twenty-five day period to be cheery is tough. From now on, I’m going to start celebrating Christmas in April. I’ll buy advent calendars at reduced price and store them away for three months. I’ll stick turkeys in the freezer and forget about them. Instead of snow, I’ll put on rain boots and go dance in the rain.

Why are we celebrating Christmas anyways? It’s Santa’s birthday, and we’re making the poor guy work? That’s ridiculous. Not only are we making him work, we’re sending him out in the freezing snow (or the blaring heat if you’re down on the other side of the hemisphere). April would be a better time for everyone. Santa wouldn’t have to work his birthday, and delivering gifts would be a lot easier. Not only that, but you can buy all your gifts early on boxing day.

Sincerely,

The Illustrious Mr. Charlton

p.s. I’m looking forwards to seeing people, though. Heading back to G-Spot for a couple of days! Woot!