The First Day of Christmas

            I have no issue whatsoever with those who already have their Christmas lights up. I love Christmas. If it were up to me, everyone would have to decorate and light up their houses all year long. To me, this is the FIRST day of Christmas. It is so because Karen will now let me watch Christmas movies. She will  spend the next few weeks decorating the house. She will scold me for baking Christmas cookies, and eat whatever scraps and “extras” are laying around. Since I can’t actually EAT the cookies, I get vicarious kicks out of the smells to go along with the Christmas music playing in the background as others munch them down. Yay Christmas!

I keep Christmas lights up in my front room all year long, but the Nazi Christmas Police of which there is only one member (Karen) she shall go unnamed, that enforces this mythical Christmas Protocol. No Christmas lights before Thanksgiving. No interior Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. No Christmas movies before Thanksgiving. I mean let’s face it, there are only so many cornucopias, bales of hay, pumpkins, pilgrim hats, and turkey salt & pepper shakers you can adorn your domicile with. For many years I used to adorn the house with lights, but recently, with the loss of the leg, it isn’t going to happen. However, I still see Christmas through the eyes of a child. My soulmate tells me to grow up. I just told her nanny-nanny-boo-boo and left it at that. I cry a lot during the Christmas holidays. Just about any Hallmark Christmas movie does the trick. Hell, who am I kidding? I cry during the friggin’ commercials. Anything with a little doggie or pony, or orphan, amnesiac, sick or poor person, reuniting family, and chances are I’ll be a mess by movie’s end. Karen busts my chops and always threatens me with “I’m gonna let your friends know what a softie you are.”  So I threaten her back with “If it makes you feel better during God’s birthday celebration to be hurtful, evil, and disrespectful, I will strive to make you happy by leaving a trail of smelly, dead, rotting corpses on your doorstep to prove what a softie I am not.”

Merry Christmas.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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