It’s Not Even Halloween Yet, So Put Down The Goddamn Gingerbread
We are just over halfway through the month of October, and some of you out there (you know who you are) are already decking your proverbial halls. If you’re among those who start playing Christmas tunes as of October 1 or who have already dusted off that smug, smarmy Elf on the Shelf, I have a request for you: kindly knock it the hell off until the day after Thanksgiving at the absolute earliest.
Look, I understand being emotionally invested in a specific season. I spent the month of September in the back of my closet, stroking the sleeves of my favorite flannel shirts and whispering “SOON, MY PRECIOUS, SOON” to them. I went to the grocery store last night and bought pumpkin spice eggnog, pumpkin spice Oreos, and pumpkin chocolate chip bread. Last weekend I went to a corn maze with my friends, sans kids, and I did not do it ironically. I am going to eat turkey sandwiches for a week after Thanksgiving, and I’m going to enjoy every bite. I don’t care how much of a #basicbitch it makes me, I live for autumn, and I am not willing to let you crush the season into the first two weeks of October.
Please, just give me a little more time to enjoy the season. I haven’t even managed to put the pumpkins I bought out on the front porch yet. I haven’t made my world-famous pumpkin chocolate chip cookies. The grocery store by our house is even out of the limited edition pumpkin spice almonds that Planters makes already. ALREADY. You can’t do this to me, okay? I have needs, and one of those needs is a constant stream of pumpkin-flavored foods until at least Thanksgiving.
I cannot possibly be expected to rake my yard and then have to come in and drink gingerbread coffee to warm up. That is so wrong already, and if I turn on the radio to hear “Santa Baby” while I’m drinking that swill, I’m going to lose it. I still have to fit in Halloween, Thanksgiving, and my kids’ birthday between now and the end of Thanksgiving, and I already feel cramped enough for time as it is. Feeling the icy, vaguely peppermint-scented breath of Father Christmas on the back of my neck is not helping me maintain a sense of calm about all I still have to finish. If you offer me a Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cake, I just might have an apoplectic fit.
So please, do me and the rest of the #basic fall-savorers a favor: take down your Christmas lights. Shun the snowman-embroidered napkins and place mats at the department store. Don’t tell me how much of your Christmas shopping you’ve already got done. And if you really, really must play Christmas music in the car, please don’t do it when you have passengers, and keep your windows rolled up to contain the cheery contagion.
And if you don’t fall in line with my autumn agenda, you’d better watch your step. I have a bag of pastel candies and some plastic eggs, and they just might find their way into your life halfway through December if you aren’t careful. You want to cram Christmas into my fall festivities? Hope you like Easter in December, jerkwads.