Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Where has the time gone?
Like a cheap pair of shorts, Christmas is creeping up on me. There are just two more paydays until Christmas.
They even gave us that hour back off Daylight Savings Time and here it is almost Dec. 1. Christmas lights are up, Black Friday has come and gone, and I didn’t even get any Thanksgiving leftovers.
All my favorite TV shows are about to go on Christmas hiatus, which means I’ll have nothing to watch for the next six weeks except Charlie Brown reruns. I say, “Bah Humbug!” to that.
This is going way too fast for me. Pretty soon it’ll start getting warm again and I can’t have that. Last summer about killed me. I can’t do that kind of heat anymore. It’s just now getting good and cold at nights. I’ve finally dried out from the summer heat. My sweat glands need a couple months off.
Still, here comes Christmas.
Notice I haven’t said the word “holiday,” either – except for just now. I refuse to say, “The Holidays” just like I refuse to say the word “Saving” in Daylight Savings Time. I’m going to add the “s” every time.
This is Christmas, not “The Holidays.”
Happy Holidays has become the new Merry Christmas and I really bristle when I hear someone say “Happy Holidays.”
Someone tells me “Happy Holidays,” I will do my level best not to have a happy holiday. Now, tell me, “Merry Christmas,” and I’ll do my level best to not be unhappy, how’s that?
The problem I have there is that I’m not an expressively happy person, especially at Christmas, and it has everything to do with Santa Claus. Christmas morning has always brought disappointment.
When and where on my list did I say I wanted a plaid shirt, an argyle sweater vest and socks?
I asked for a GI Joe with lifelike hair. Plus a new baseball bat and baseball as my old ball got stuck in the gutter. I didn’t ask for clothes.
Getting clothes for Christmas is a waste of a good wrapping job. How can you expect a 9-year old to be excited when after ripping open the big box with the red ribbon bow he finds a plaid shirt, an argyle sweater vest and socks? That’s one present less to open and I got clothes?
What happened to the Rifleman authentic replica Winchester rifle? I asked for that, too.
How can you expect anyone to be expressively happy over a plaid shirt, an argyle sweater vest and socks?
Here’s an experiment for you. Imagine a plaid shirt, an argyle sweater vest, and socks. Are you smiling? Probably not.
But your folks want you to be excited about getting school clothes that could get you beat up on the playground. Even back in 1967, you wore a plaid shirt and argyle sweater to third grade, you got beat up on the playground.
So I always tempered my happiness because I know half the items mentioned on my Christmas list won’t be under the tree.
So here comes Christmas. Again. Just two paydays left. I’m going to be broke again.
I got two words for that and they’re not Merry Christmas. Or Happy Holidays.