Holiday season is craning its tinsel-clad neck around the corner, lurking in wait to pounce the instant your thirteenth cheque is in the bank.
Department stores are offering credit increases and teenager-friendly cellphones are going on special at three times your monthly household grocery budget.
Domestic workers are reminiscing about the poor quality of last year’s buckets, and the Endumeni Council is trying to decide if they can chance using the Chinese New Year-themed lights again this year.
Neighbours in Strathmore are waiting for some jump-the-gunner to put his fancy lights up in his tree, secretly glad that they can now show off theirs as well without being the windgat ones that did it first.
The Enlightened Few have started spouting about how the Christmas traditions are based on Pagan rituals – I know this speech off by heart, can quote Dan Brown and all.
Personally, I don’t care whether the Christmas tree originated in Germany, the North Pole or on Stonehenge Hill, not a one is going to drop its pine needles all over my carpet or encourage mad cat rompings in the middle of the night (not this year, not for the eleventh time…).
Space in the aisles at supermarkets has become even more endangered by the sudden appearance of gaudy balls in every metallic colour imaginable (except green and red) and tinsel (which makes me think of huge hairy caterpillars, taking over the Christmas tree…), making choosing your charcoal or muscling your way to the biscuits even more difficult than it normally is.
And of course Christmas sits smack-bang in the middle of the longest school holidays of the year, which is terribly unfair on parents: it gives kids more time to decide which one hundred things will be on their Christmas lists, and advertisers more time to punt their products during increased TV-watching hours.
And then, just when you’ve gotten approval on a second bond on the house to pay for the quad bike, imported takkies (‘sneakers’) and Xbox, the kids decide they’d rather have a flat over the garage and a dedicated ADSL line instead (mit webcam).
I reckon I can get through the season unscathed, so long as I manage to fit the ceremonial meats and all the beverages and eight assorted puddings and salads (which either there’s not enough of, or no one ever eats) in the fridge.
I also plan to deal better with the guilt of not being able to see extended family this year (as opposed to the stress when we do see them – it’s a conundrum shared the world over I’m sure…).
So I wish everyone strength for the times to come.
And I also wish you good braais, boss’s leave approvals and plenty of pennies in your pudding.
I hope I remember to leave biltong and maas out under the (plastic, Pagan) tree:
I may catch sight of Tata Keismos and his flying Reinbokke, dropping off my long-awaited tattoo voucher and digital kitchen scale (hint-hint…).