Christmas Cards

Of all holiday chores, the one most people put off as long as possible is the task of writing Christmas cards. Can you blame us? The return on investment is terrible. If I send out sixty cards, I’m lucky if I get back ten. Only guilt, as traditional as the Yule log, goads me into this annual rite.

My sister has an unusual idea: she doesn’t send Christmas cards at all; she sends New Year’s cards. She avoids the lines at the post office and the pre-Christmas rush, and sends cards without the looming threat of the happiest day of the year’s choking pressure imposing its deadline. Sounds reasonable, right? You know what I think?

I hate her.

Okay, that’s a tad extreme, but how dare she avoid this dreaded ritual and escape from the agony the rest of us subject ourselves to? What says Christmas more than the elbow to elbow camaraderie of the post office? The vivacious and witty conversations with mothers of screaming toddlers? The snappy repartee with the shipper of the oversized parcel whose points jab your back? And those bantering bon vivants themselves, the postal workers? God bless them and their good cheer. Who hasn’t enjoyed a chat with the friendly, helpful, and meticulous employees of the U.S. Postal Service? The melody of their derisive scorn is like the tinkle of holiday bells.

This year, while I struggle to get my cards out on time, she’ll actually spend her time enjoying the holiday season, perhaps dunking an oversized cookie into a spiked egg nog while watching a holiday chestnut on TV. The audacity! If I’m suffering, I want everyone to suffer – and experience peace on earth and good will towards men, of course.

Does this make you want to strangle Santa too? I propose a solution: let’s all avoid Christmas and send holiday cards a week late. If that’s not enough time, make it two. If we all agree, let’s make January 8^th a new Hallmark holiday. If your Christmas cards are late, just say you’re early for the 8^th. What do you think? I will if you will.