Welcome Home Robin! I hope you had a satisfying holiday. I bet Libby is jumping for joy.---------------------------------------
I've come down with a case of the can't-help-its, better known as seasonal blahs. Post-turkey and pre-insanity blues. Christmas has gotten too out of hand for my tastes. It should be a simple time for family and friends getting together and celebrating another year of life. Instead, it is a celebration of money and materials. Lay-away; buy; charge; spend; borrow! What the hell for? No one benefits in the long run except the purveyors of commercialism. How important is it to the supply chain? For some merchants, it can make a third or more of their annual sales, and half of their yearly income! Re-damn-diculous!
We treat it like having one-night-stand sex; slam, bam, thanky ma'm and it's over 'til next year. Flirting begins in September, then by Halloween we're booking a cheap motel room, and at Thanksgiving we are naked and in bed. Now comes the good part; a whole month of foreplay, followed by twenty-four hours of unbelieveable intercourse, climaxing in an orgasm of give and take; grunts, groans, and screams of delight... and it is over. But wait; O my God! The sleazy encounter has resulted in us having caught a transmittable disease; indebtuptoourass-itis! We didn't practice safe holiday. We reached into our pants and whipped out our well endowed credit card and stuck it in every slot available, even allowing strangers to handle it. For the next nine months we curse, threaten, promise, and pull our hair. Never again! But September always rolls around. Even though we haven't paid our full price for the previous year's dalliance and indulgence, we begin anew.
Bah; humbug!
2 comments:
You really held that together. Wonderful wrting and so true. Thank you for the insight. And they say that only old hippies make good cynics. ;-)
Hi, Kathleen. It is true about the old hippies; we make great cynics.
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