Please let the holiday spirit smack me in the face and knock me unconscious

Bah Humbug. Let's skip Christmas.

I hate feeling that way. I hate admitting that I would rather just sleep through the entire month of December than attempt to survive the holidays. It hasn't always been this way. I used to enjoy the peace that the Christmas season afforded. I used to revel in the music, the lights, the wrapping.

But this year, things aren't looking up and I am letting that fact get me down. And despite my best efforts, I am just not into this.

For instance, I am currently in full-fledge assault mode with my drycleaners. Seems four shirts and at least two sweaters have come back with holes in them. . . now this not only makes me mad, but it seriously puts a dent in my wardrobe. It gets even better in the fact that the manager won't call me back. I have written a very stern letter, complete with a detailed cost assessment. And we all know that won't do me a bit of good. No holiday sweater to wear the office shindig. No raw silk cotton shirt to wear to our evening party. And no cotton blouses to get me through the time in between.

And the tree, yes, the tree. I know it's all over now, but I am still upset that broken ornaments are what kicked off my holiday season. (I keep thinking I should just treat myself to a new ornament or two, maybe that would get us on the right track, but I cannot justify spending money on myself during this "season of giving". And I keep telling myself it shouldn't matter, but we all know it does matter, in the grand scheme of things when compounded by all of the other mis-haps.)

Oh, wait, no, nix that. Our families and their insanity helped us greet December with open arms. . . and the incredible desire to puke.

There are lots of other little bumps, some larger than others, but I'll spare you. Because individually, they aren't significant. But when you pile them up on a heap, they seem insurmountable.

And as hard as I try, no matter how many holiday specials I watch, lists of blessings I scrawl, presents I wrap or lighted houses I pass, I simply don't think I can do this. I don't think I can catch the holiday spirit. I don't think I can put on a brave face and try to enjoy it. It's not in me, not like it used to be. It's over. The joy has been sucked out of me.

As I read this, I realize it is even more pathetic than I thought.