Snap out of it, should be a relatively easy solution, but its fast approaching Christmas, December is the calendar month I dread.
Why – because I am a miserable old bastard, the sheer expense that comes with Christmas, the annoying children’s TV adverts where my 4 year old son confirms he wants that, at bloody everything. My wife who goes into overdrive with the preparation of the lounge, where will the tree go, the hours of precision placing of the ornaments and the decorating of the house.
My weight suffers greatly, the food the alcohol and the general requirement to ‘get into the mood’ the roads are full of cocks who can’t drive and heaven forbid if it would begin to snow the whole country grinds to a painful and slow depressing holt with panic setting in.
I am a summer person, I love that warm feeling those long nights with the reduced heating bills and not having to walk in from work and having to turn off lights where there is no one sat or even stood.
Even the TV is shite in winter, Christmas movies on repeat from 1986, then we have the Christmas CD, we both subscribe to Apple Music but every year a new Christmas CD appears and we struggle to find a CD player to use for the cringe worth mix tape.
Having to scrape the car free from ice each morning isn’t one of my favourite jobs at 6am each morning but the heated seat is a saving grace on my 120 minute commute, that bad boy was on full power this morning, its true I do have a hot piece of ass.
Back to the opening sentence, Snap Out Of It, I need to wake up with a smile on my face, not sure how, drugs could be the answer, but then again that’s another expense I could do without.
My wife is wearing me down, I can feel the Christmas spirit slowly growing inside me and probably the excitement from the children is helping this and the daily opening of the 6 advent calendars we have.
If I hear that Santa won’t be bringing me any presents again this week from my 4 year old I may have to break the realisation that Santa, isn’t fucking real.
I nearly let the cat out of the hat the other day, during such a conversation where I quickly reminded him that it was I who purchased the presents and not Santa, the look my wife gave me was, well it wasn’t sexy it was more – ‘Your a Dick’ backtracking quickly to keep the peace I explained that I operated like a finance house and Santa paid me back over a set period of time, given the sheer expense of Christmas someone who works just 1 day a year and employees hundreds of midgets needs that little bit of support too.
Christmas, that time where we all go mad, lets not get started on Secret Santa in work, really we are all adults and still………….