DIY Fair Round Up - Girl of Cardigan

(Disclaimer: Yes, I’m aware that this is a big complaint about complaining. Deal with it.)

I, being of sound mind and body, do hereby and henceforth declare an igloo of sanctity around the tail end of December.

Seriously, people, it’s Christmas (hanukwanzayada insert holiday of choice). And in place of the usual yuletide glee and apple cider smell that I still naively associate with this time of year, I seem to be witness to more “eff you universe” moments and just plain rudeness than, well, ever. Which is lame. Stop it.

To the lady who flipped me off for driving 65 miles an hour in the slow lane with a 6 ft pine tree on the roof of my brand new car, Merry Christmas to you too. To all you jerks who feel the need to whine at innocent employees after waiting in the twelve hours of line that are the real hallmark of the season, get over yourselves. The whole “exclusive title to misery” bit went out with Alanis Morrisette, and you aren’t helping things move any faster for those of us stuck in queue behind you wishing we had the guts to tell you off using big words you probably wouldn’t understand. To all of you who think it’s cool to pick on people who are dressed as elves or Santa for the purpose of bring joy to little children, go home and sit on an ornament. Shame on you for not having anything better to do. To those of you, like me, who have been grumpy and short with your friends and family and blamed it repeatedly on the stress of the season, I’ll quit it if you will. Enough is enough.

Let’s all be nice to each other for a little while, shall we? Let’s hold our complaints and our rants until the New Year, and take a few weeks to sip some eggnog and think, yeah, life can suck and the world is in turmoil, but gosh golly gee, I’m blessed and I’m grateful. Let’s all get off of our whiny tushes in pursuit of a unified, sparkly, Family Channel worthy Christmas. We’re all privileged, here, kids. Let’s act like we appreciate it for once.

I’m asking you to hold me accountable. If I’m being a grinchy little brat, call me out and beat me with boughs of holly. But if you’re pissed off, put upon, unfairly burdened, annoyed, or just plain grouchy, save it. We’ll chat in January. Happy New Year.

I love you all dearly, and I hope your Christmases (hanukwanzayada insert holiday of choice) are a thousand times more fabulous than you hoped they would be. Let me know what I can do to help you get there.

to all a good night.