I settled in for my ride home after work, and tuned my radio to the local station playing 24-7 Christmas carols. I love the old traditional Christmas songs. They make me happy. A song was ending, and the radio host was singing “Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” slightly off-pitch. Then she said, “Is Christmas merry for you? Do you enjoy the holidays? Or do you just want to put your fingers in your ears to block out the noise of the world…”
Click.
I had to turn the radio off. This local station plays a nationally syndicated radio show in the evenings, and I hate it. Half of the songs are sad songs about sad people with sad lives, and there isn’t much about “Joy to the world,” or even “Jingle Bell Rock.”
A few days later, I gave it another try. I tuned in on another trip home from work, only to hear her say, “…and the media has us all so freaked out about the flu! On top of all the other holiday pressures you just spend every night tossing and turning, getting up every few hours and pacing. Well, we’re here for you…”
Click.
This woman treats Christmas like a disease. Before you know it, I’ll call in to work one morning, and tell my boss, “I can’t make it in today. I have a bad case of Christmas and don’t want to spread it to anyone else.” Expectant parents will say, “We don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, we just hope it doesn’t have Christmas.” The nation will run out of the Christmas vaccine. Entire self-help novels will be dedicated to the subject, “Christmas: Don’t Let it Happen To You.”
Now I choose to tune in to that station during the day, when I’m likely to hear uplifting songs about letting it snow and about chestnuts roasting. I’m going to avoid the evening syndicated show like the plague. I don’t want her bad Christmas vibes to become contagious.