Column: Merry Procrasinator’s Christmas

It’s almost Christmas, and my tree still isn’t decorated yet. In fact, it’s not even up yet.

Bah humbug.

Out of all the things I put off (work, trips to the dentist, rugby rematches), I always feel most guilty about putting off Christmas.

When I was little, my mother would have the Christmas tree up and decorated on Thanksgiving night. The house would be mistletoed and smelling like Christmas no more than a week later. Thus, I would have an entire month to wallow in the magic this is Christmas.

Now that I live on my own, I typically put my Christmas tree up a few days before Christmas, decorate it the night before and decorate the rest of the apartment in my imagination. Thus, I have about 10 hours to wallow in the magic that is a procrastinator’s Christmas.

I feel terribly guilty about this.

I’m robbing my inner child of its Christmas.

As I work more and play less, my inner child is continually put aside for such mundane things like deadlines, commitments and earning a paycheck. I barely have time to do things like sitting inside with a mug of hot chocolate on a wintry night reading, gliding down hills on a cheap round slid and getting up early on a Saturday morning to watch cartoons while eating a bowl of some horribly sugary cereal.

And now, I’m taking away my inner child’s Christmas.

You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.

So instead of coming home from a long day of work to a Christmas wonderland, I arrive to see dishes to be washed, clothes to be laundered and toilet paper to be bought. The Christmas tree? It’s in a box, still waiting to be unpacked. I could unpack it tonight, but I’m tired and I want to veg out and watch the evening news.

And my inner child continues to suffer.

Now, the thing to do here would be to get off my lazy duff, go get the Christmas tree, go get my ornaments, go get my train set, go get my lights, go get my cards and go get my Christmas spirit.

My mother would approve.

My inner child would approve.

And, most importantly, Santa Claus would approve.

But the evening news is on. And I’m tired. There’s always tomorrow night. And the night after that. Christmas isn’t for a few more days.

Luckily, I start to think about the holidays growing up. And how special they were. And I put on a Christmas cd. And I begin to pull the Christmas tree out of its box. The ornaments are just a shelf away. And my inner child smiles. Merry Procrastinator’s Christmas.

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