Someone PLEASE Spike My Eggnog

OK, so Virginia may be aware there IS a Santa Claus, but I am thinking of shunning all things holiday and touting Jehovah's Witness beliefs just to avoid having anything further to do with continuing to feign effort this Christmas.

I mean, I am not the Holiest of rollers, let's face it whenever there is some sort of Religious function between family or friend I am pretty sure they all glance back at me waiting for me to burst into a pile of blaspheming ashes. I don't discount other's beliefs, I think the story is grand, I have belief in something, I am just....eh.

My house has been thrown up upon by askew and half assed holiday schmegma and I have zero energy to put into giving a rats ass enough to make it even slightly warm and inviting. I have my tree all done up pretty, and if you happened to stumble upon my Griswold-like encounter with that tree, I am sure you are not shocked to know I scowl at it daily and abhor even plugging in its lights because I swear it is taunting me.

The lights I attempted to put outside my lovely abode of COURSE have decided to cut out on one side. Why wouldn't they? A brand spanking set of lights should just quit working after a week don't you know.

I have this lovely village I had purchased with pride years ago, acquiring piece by piece each little tavern and home. Quaintly lit from within. Little people inside, smiling, laughing. Adorable little Victorianesque street lanterns to adorn the make-shift, snow-laden streets full of faux snow capped evergreens and frolicking animals.

Yeah they are sitting in a box.

Stockings are not hung by my chimney with care. Well, I don't actually, HAVE a chimney, but they are not hung anywhere. They too are still in store boxes in my kitchen, waiting for me to pull them out and be hung, wanting to be cozied up and lit up warmly by the tree that is taunting me and hoping to be filled with goodies on Christmas Eve.

At this point the ultimate stocking stuffer is going to be a severed foot.

I have done my duties. I have done my minimalist shopping with no money. I have written out Christmas cards I have yet to send. Posed cheesily with my son for our yearly holiday photo shoot.

I am just not here.

SO now looms away 10 days until the big day, 9 if you take it as Christmas Eve, the night I will stay up all night watching a Christmas Story for 24 hours, waiting until the very last minute to wrap every gift because I struggle. Cutting my pointer finger to shreds on the stupid teeth of the scotch tape dispenser.

I have even tried to get into the spirit with charities, which I am huge on anyway, but even though it felt amazing to do, it wasn't Christmassy enough. I took part in Wreaths Across America and laid a wreath on the grave of every fallen soldier from every war from the American Revolution to the War in Iraq in the cemeteries in my hometown to make sure the soldiers who lost their freedoms fighting for our country were not forgotten this holiday season. It was an amazing tribute, and an honor. I brought my son, and they even let me take an extra wreath to the grave of a fallen officer and friend in another town.

And yet, the Christmas Spirit still alludes me.

Someone needs to spike my eggnog or something because I would like to snap out of this funk and have myself a Merry Frickin Christmas.

Damnit.