the reason for the season

On Thanksgiving Eve, instead of contributing to the most lucrative night of the year for bar owners, the handsome hubby and I snuggled up to catch up on some newspaper reading and watch a movie.  I would say we are lame, but there is nothing lame about waking up on Thanksgiving morning feeling like a million bucks instead of feeling like something died in your mouth after it spent the night boring a hole in your brain with a butter knife. 

Pre-movie-watching, we plopped down with a few days worth of papers we had been too busy to read.  And when I say newspaper reading, I really mean wading through the giant stack of Black Friday ads that land like a ton of bricks on the front step on the day before Thanksgiving.  If you search hard enough, you might find a couple of pages worth of real news. All those ads stress me out but I decided to peruse a few from my favorite stores.  Initially I was pissed because I found the vacuum I just bought was going to be on sale on Black Friday for a hundred bucks cheaper than I paid, but then I realized that getting up at 3 am with the possibility of getting trampled was not worth a hundred bucks to me.  I guess I have a lot to be thankful for. Then I got pissed again when I thought of all the paper wasted to print these ads.

I started to think about how this Black Friday concept and how it gets crazier each year.  Stores are opening at midnight.  The good sales start at 3 am.  The number of BF ads on tv this week rivaled the political ads before the last election.  Then there is Cyber Monday, which come after BF, but online retailers are already sending out sales trying to get a leg up.  What is all of this for?  That is the question I ask myself every year.  And that is the question I asked the handsome husband last night in bed.  "Whose idea was it for the holidays to be about all these presents?"

The handsome hubby didn't even look up from his paper:

"Jesus was a capitalist." 

And that is why I love him.