Stressmas In November

…And so we enter that magical time of year when Old Man Winter bends us over and makes us his bitch.

Ah the winter! I remember when the seasons change meant snow days, sledding and gifts. Now, it means…well…pretty much the same actually. Except snow days mean I have to drive, sledding is what happens when my car goes down the hill on the way to work and gifts are what I’m buying for other people.

I was in a pancake joint the other day (people in Rockland—try the new Pancake store next to Rockland Bakery. They gave me, conservatively, 8 pounds of pancake. It was pancakes for 41 immigrant weddings), anyway, I was drinking the last shot of syrup from the dispenser, when I noticed that the radio was playing Christmas songs. One after another, after another…What the hell??? It was a day after Thanksgiving and already I have to hear Silent Bleeping Night?

Maybe what’s wrong with our culture is that we never take time to smell the roses anymore. Or in this case, the left-over turkey and mashed potatoes. We can never simply enjoy a time for what it is—we always have to rushing to the next big event. I really don’t have anything against the Holidays. But isn’t time to admit we’ve gone too far? Even if I’m wrong, I’m punching out the next person who wishes me “Happy Holidays” before December 1.

If this last post seems a little surly, forgive me—I’m still working the maple syrup out of my system.