Just in case you haven’t heard it already, I am not a fan of Christmas. I liked the holiday as a child but sometime during my freshman year of college I realized that the best thing about Christmas was getting a few days off work. Twenty-six years later Christmas has evolved into a month long ordeal of spending money, rushing to finish work projects and crankiness brought on by the stress. And the extra days off work? Those get eaten up by wrapping gifts, cleaning, cooking and driving all over the place to visit family and friends. I know it’s supposed to be the season good will and charity and celebrating family togetherness but by December 26th I am so burnt out with putting myself before others that I don’t even know who myself is anymore.
So now I like to say that my Christmas is December 26th. In many countries including Australia, Canada, New Zealand and the United Kingdom they celebrate Boxing Day on December 26th. From what I can gather it is a bank holiday and similar to Black Friday in the U.S. The origins of the holiday and it’s name are unclear but my favorite explanation goes back to the Middle Ages when after feasting all day on December 25th, the manor lords would pack all their leftover in boxes and hand them out to the serfs who got the day off. By the Victorian era, the tradition evolved to one where household servants were given their bonuses on December 26th and, I assume, the day off work.
Get the idea here? Since I feel like a servant for most of December, on the 26th I take the day off from all responsibilities and eat leftovers. It’s beautiful. And sometimes I even get a bonus. Like yesterday when Jerry went out to Grocery Outlet he brought me back these:
He also showed me this which made my holiday complete:
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!