You either enter the day after Thanksgiving in a shame-spiral of carbs, OR: you bust into the 26th of November with both arms pushing open the French doors of your balcony-as-a-metaphor-for-life and, while simultaneously dropping enough tinsel to make a silver hula skirt for the earth’s circumference out onto the street below, you take the deepest breath you can inhale and in the exhale you cry, “IT’S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!”
You either cover your ears and glare when Jerry in the cubicle over makes the decision on behalf of the entire office to switch the communal floor radio to 98.3, The Jingle Bell Station, OR: you are Jerry, your dream job is to deejay said station and you’ve been pre-gaming with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas” since like, July of ’97.
You either relish like a kosher hot dog in the pure joy of being alone on a cold night with a cup of alcohol-infused tea and a backlog of “American Horror Story” to catch up on, put your phone on Airplane Mode and pretend to have a violent cold in so that you’re left the hell alone, or: you co-lament with friends about how you’re single during Cuffing Season, which is really a shame only because you’d rather go ice skating with the same person you’re sleeping with as opposed to Becky, who always shows off with her crappy double-axels and white skates.
Without inadvertently causing a divide among the population, regardless of what you technically celebrate you’re either one of two people: those who treat the 26th through the first half of December like any other regular old time of year while muttering about the unnecessary speeds in which consumerism moves when it comes to forcing the calendar’s clock’s hands or: you’re the early riser of the holiday world and the end of Thanksgiving marks fair game to begin celebrating THE HOLIDAYS.
So. Which one are you, and how soon is too soon?