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All I Want For Christmas Is… Tape?
I have always loved Christmas. I think people who hate Christmas probably just really hate their families. But I happen to love my exceptionally large (often too loud and out of their goddamn minds) family. Of course, as a kid, I loved the gift part too. But now, I actually prefer giving gifts to receiving them, though my usually very small wallet doesn’t allow me to spoil my loved ones.
The other thing I really, really love about Christmas time is the lights. I think, now, that Christmas lights are even more important than keeping Christ in Christmas. Why? Because of the winter solstice, of course. Christmas, like most holidays, was actually a rip off from the Pagans. And Jesus, though a real person, was not born in December. So why are we celebrating Christmas in December? Because without the most wonderful time of the year, it would be the most depressing time of the year because it is literally dark AF. Seasonal Depression is more legitimate than any story told by any religion. As the days grow shorter, it becomes a real bummer to the ol’ psyche. Not surprisingly, I suffer from Seasonal Depression— but I am not alone.
November and February are notoriously my most deplorable months. And unlike regular depression, there is a legitimate culprit. The dark and the cold combo. This is why I usually plan getaways for these months. But during Christmastime, I don’t need to run. In fact, I love New York during Christmas, especially the city. Plus, I don’t mind that it gets dark early when people light up their windows with magical displays.
Though I live in a humble studio apartment, I have the front windows of the house I live in. So I always put up lights, along with my little tree, and make my little home festive. I rarely have any company at all (since I don’t even own a couch) so it’s mostly for me (except for the windows which is for all!).
Every year, however, when I string up my lights, I lose three or four rolls of tape. This happens when I wrap gifts too (which I also love doing). This year, after I lost two rolls of scotch tape (in my basically one room apartment, I mean seriously, where the fuck could they have gone?), I switched to climbing tape (tape made to tape up your fingers when you rock climb) because it was the only tape I could find. I had two rolls of climbing tape, until I lost one of those too (which is black tape so you’d think a little harder to lose than clear tape).
Is tape as magical as Santa’s elves? Full of more trickery than a ghost of Christmas past, present or future? While some may long for a lost lover during the holidays, I sit in my bed and yearn for the missing tape. Which must be within feet of me. For the tape is more of an escape artist than socks or an Apple TV remote.
Return to me, tape! For I could replace you for a few measly dollars. But it drives me utterly mad that you are here somewhere. All I want for Christmas is you, Tape. And maybe a couple thousand dollars so I can escape the cold in February.
Also… the lights in my window keep falling and I can’t fix it without MORE TAPE!
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