I am a Christmaholic

It is November 9th and I have Christmas decorations up. I have done this to battle the depression of the pre-Thanksgiving holiday season. It's the limbo of the year. Halloween and Thanksgiving are like Eli and Cooper Manning of holidays. So I've eliminated them altogether.


Let's get this straight - Thanksgiving isn't a holiday. It's a day to eat Turkey and watch the Detroit Lions play football. Christmas is now two whole months for me. It is my warm tin of hooch that will get me through, the 2008 presidential race coverage, $3 a gallon for gas and my final semester of college, which is draining the life from me slowly through the fork it jabbed in my eye.


I have become what I hate - the person who decorates for Christmas as soon as Halloween is over. But I don't care. I've officially become a yuppie, drowning my sorrows in Hallmark cards, The Nutcracker Suite and Edward Scissorhands. I am drunk from twinkling lights and pine scented candles. I am an idiot.