The Shrew thinks I am anti-Christmas. Just because he has never seen me decorate a Christmas tree or sing "Here Comes Santa Claus!" does not mean that I am a Scrooge. My nephew, Mason, did embarrass me a week ago by exclaiming, "HEY! You don't even have a Christmas Tree!" BLUSH.
For the record, I actually love Christmas and that lovable Daddy bear that is Santa Claus. Is it so wrong to have utilitarian tendencies akin to a straight man? Can't I just use the excuse that Mother Nature already decorated for Christmas with all the snow 11 days ago?
It would be different if I had children. I would show them the specialness of Christmas I used to enjoy as a child. The trouble is that my furry rugrats don't even know what Christmas is. Sadly, they only care about the next treat. Will it be a pig ear or a marrow bone?
So, why should I bother? Is it wrong to go through life embracing each day as special rather than attaching so much sentiment towards a token few? I just pray the Ghost of Christmas Past does not pay me a visit soon.
After recently seeing Goya's Ghosts and Strangers, I can't deal with anymore scary movies. Shivering.