Yes, I said it. I mean it, too.
I hate most major holidays, but Christmas irritates me more than most. Possibly because it goes on so long.
I hate putting up decorations. I hate taking down decorations. I hate decorations. I hate cars slowing down in front of me to stare at decorations. I hate the expectation that I’m supposed to put up decorations or be a party-pooper.
I hate secular Christmas music. I hate that I can’t turn on a radio station without hearing “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” Or “The Little Drummer Boy.” Oh, how I hate “The Little Drummer Boy.” My most hated Christmas song ever is “Little Saint Nick” by The Beach Boys. What exactly were they smoking when they wrote that song? What terrible, powerful malevolence keeps it circulating year after year? Die, Little Saint Nick, die!
I hate how my schedule gets messed up. I hate driving in the dark to get to places I don’t want to go to do things I don’t want to do. I don’t care if I’m getting fed. I’m not supposed to eat most of it anyway and it doesn’t make up for the lost time. I hate that Christmas parties ruin my plans to celebrate the winter solstice.
I hate how my TV schedule gets rearranged. Every station suspends new shows to run old shows I could get on Netflix if I really cared to watch them, which I don’t, or I would. I hate “It’s a Wonderful Life.” It’s a terrible life! The only thing that poor man ever wanted was to leave that two-bit town and no one will let him, not even God who stops him from committing suicide. He can’t catch a break. And now they take 3 hours to run it and play an hour and a half of commercials. I can watch Fringe if I want commercials.
I hate that people justify lying to their children about the existence of a certain supernatural being “because it’s cute.” You know what isn’t cute? Lying to your children.
I hate the weather. I hate that i stays dark until 7 AM and gets dark by 5 PM. I hate snow. I hate cold winds and cold floors and cold air when I get out of the shower. I hate that I don’t have enough money to keep the house at 83 degrees like I do in summer, and that winter seems to last longer every year I’m alive.
I hate the obligation of giving presents. If I knew what you wanted, I would have given it to you before now. I hate holding on to presents. I hate wrapping presents or deciding how to wrap presents. I hate carrying presents from place to place and then carrying different presents back again. Frankly, I have enough stuff. I don’t need more, and neither do you.
I hate the stress. I hate that the most wonderful time of the year often involves hanging with people you choose not to see the other 364 days.
I hate that you’re expected to “be good” for the month of December. Not even the whole month. Just until the 25th day. Aren’t we supposed to be good all the time? “For goodness’ sake” and not to get stuff?
I hate hesitating before I say “Merry Christmas” because the PC police have me so wound up over possibly offending somebody that I can’t in good conscience say what I mean. I hate that my high holy day has been corrupted by a fallen world, and I can’t even find it in myself to celebrate it anymore.