The pressure of Christmas. You know, the pressure you feel when little Johnny wants a $300 Play Station at the same time the power company wants a $400 bill paid – from AUGUST.
The pressure you feel to be home on time for the pre-Christmas neighborhood dinner while being stuck in interstate traffic at the mall exit. It's the same pressure you feel when the wife insists you somehow magically keep the overloaded Christmas tree from hitting the floor again, but she refuses to allow the use of fishing line to accomplish the feat.
pressure. It will kill you.
And, look, Christmas is no time to be dead. But, for the love of God,
it comes from everywhere this time of year. Exactly who can deck the
halls? Have you priced holly lately? Maybe Bing Crosby could, but even
pressure that most of us, including him, couldn't possibly live up to.
He dreamed of a
white Christmas. He lived in HOLLYWOOD!
I grew up in Florida. Folks who have fireplaces there brick them up and turn into knickknack stations or tiny book cases. Even if I knew what they were and liked them, how the hell could I roast a chestnut?
And all those commercials and news stories of the homeless and hungry. Why are they more homeless and hungry now than in July, before I had to buy a Play Station AND pay the August power bill? And don't you think we feel enough pressure after floating a bad check at the Food Lion to pay for Christmas dinner, WITHOUT hearing those damn little bells at the front entrance when we leave the store?
And the incredible pressure to be “home for the holidays...?” Well, I finally caved on that one. I was going to spend a happy and eventful Christmas with my son and his 37 children at their place. I decided instead to stay home, alone and be miserable. Happy now, Bing?
I will NOT ask for a Lunar Report donation this week. You just don't need THAT pressure!