Silver Bells Ya’all

(Written about two weeks ago)

So, the holidays are a time of contention and strife in my household of two people and two pets. I’m a documented, certified, out-and-out Scrooge about the whole concept. My mother on the other hand, loves the tinsel and trinkets and carols and spirit. This leads to problems.

Don’t get me wrong, I have occasional moments of magpie-mindedness. Every now and then, I absolutely adore shiny things with unreasonable fervor. I love holiday food, time off, the excuse to travel, the chance to see old friends and go home for a while. But, my ideal Christmas would be a roaring fire, way too much food, one day of Christmas carols, some well-planned gifts (not necessarily expensive or fancy, a massage counts just as high as a camera), games, a Christmas tree decorated with a few ornaments and smelling of real forests, and good friends in abundance. Simplicty.

I detest the tinsel and bling and plastic of modern holidays. Rather than a chance to kick back and relax, we’re pressed to run and fight and wear ourselves ragged, just to spend a little more money and throw a better party. Instead of holiday cheer and spirit, you have crazy drivers, drunk assholes, stressed and angry shoppers and a spirit of one-upsmanship. It just isn’t right.

More than anything else though, I especially detest bells on doorhandles. Particularly when I’m just getting home at 1am, after work, tired and irritated and stressed.

Even better if they’ve been put up since I left, and therefor I have no fair warning. Nerves aren’t meant to be shattered that way. I’m fairly sure I squeaked. The sound pealed through the house in ringing waves, sending my typically tightly-wound state into something resembling a pulley system that’s been tightened a bit too much. It was a bad year.

Tonight, I actually got in the spirit before Christmas Eve. I bought a wreath, (real), decorated it with pine cones and some kitschy holiday trinkets (because I’ll throw them out with the wreath probably!), and hung it on the door. Merry Christmas, we’re done now, right? Christmas is on the West Coast this year, we don’t need to decorate, whoo-hoo!

Nope, out come the bells. Those damned, bloody, thrice-cursed (be sure to pronounce it like in the horror movies cuuuuurssssss-edddddd!) bells.

Why didn’t I destroy them last year when I had the chance?

Apparently I forgot.

So if someone hears a scream sometime within the next couple of weeks, an unearthly, ear-shattering, heart-breaking wail of agony and fear, it’s probably the demons of the abyss opening their front door after a long day of playing with holiday shoppers.

After all, render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s, yes?

Sweet Silver Bells

All seem to say

Christmas is here

Sweet silver hells

All seem to say

Misery is here

Sweet silver bells

Ring out the day

Christmas is here

(repeat into eternity, if it gets stuck in your head like in mine!)


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