'Tis The Season

Now that the turk has had his day in the sun - well more like oven, fryer, overstuffed stomachs and the like, its the glorious time of year when chestnuts roast on fires and shit.  Eggnog abounds. I freeze my tits off. I know, I know, I was warned of this before I moved to this frozen tundra - yet here I am - sitting in my office wearing my winter jacket backwards like its a snuggie. 

This is real life. 
As I made my morning rounds around the bloggerverse, I basically drooled over every single one of your Christmas decorations.
I'm gonna level with you here - I'm not a scrooge. I love me some of Jesus' Bday and all the spirit that goes with this time of year, BUT I just cannot bring myself to decorate my apartment for the holidays. 
Is this some sort of adult gene I missed out on in my DNA code?!
I'm going to chalk this up to one of two things:

1. No one is ever in my apartment but me and the demon critter. Well - even he doesn't come around any more since I tried to kill him (weird), so yeah, just me. Perhaps the lack of superawesomefunandglamorous cocktail parties thrown in my residence makes me feel like decorating is pointless.
2. My feelings of Christmas spirit are in direct correlation with spending time with my family. Don't get me wrong I will cry in my car listening to "Christmas Shoes" like any other sobby betch out there and I will throw every penny, paperclip, and lint ball I can pull out of the depths of my purse for those bell ringers, but I don't honestly feel the warmth and joy of Christmas until I'm surrounded by the people I love most in the world. I don't think decking my own halls will change that. I could be wrong. Maybe filling my vases with ornaments and decorating a tree would get me to that place of Holiday bliss long before I arrive at my parents'. I just can't imagine it. 

Does the cheese stand alone on this one? Am I the only chick up in dis bitch who doesn't have a single thing of glitter or tinsel in her bachelorette pad?

I do have a snowman cookie jar my brother's ex-girlfriend gave my mom that I managed to steal in my move. I'd put him out, but I'm afraid all my Christmas spirit will make him come alive and start marching up and down my street with all my neighbors singing in toe. I don't have enough Xanax to handle that shit.