I got it. It hit me last night when I was walking my dogs. The whole Christmas...spirit...thing. (Yes, I did have to choke out that last sentence). Let me explain...

Last night my dogs dragged me out for one final walk before bed. The snow was just starting to fall. As I crossed West 9th and headed east on St. Clair, people bustled in and out of restaurants and wine bars. Every storefront had a speaker playing a different Christmas carol. Twinkling lights adorned every window.

I rarely feel like my walks with the dogs have a soundtrack, let alone a light show, but last night I had both.

I realized, as mitten and wool hat bedecked strangers stopped to pet the dogs and couples giggled on their way to their cars, that I had it. Christmas spirit. I was actually EXCITED about it all. The shopping, the weather, the lights, the tacky music... ALL of it.

I went to bed exhausted but, well, cheerful. This is a strange thing for me.

This morning, when my dogs dragged me out before I was ready to be awake, I had high hopes that my feelings of good cheer would continue throughout the season. I crossed West 9th and again headed east on Saint Clair. Again, the lights got me. Strangers said hello to my dogs. The sun was barely up and I was thinking about...SMACK!!!!

...and there I lay, flat on my back, looking at the crappy gray sky that I will look at all crappy winter. My elbow was throbbing. I'd also managed to crack my head on the sidewalk. My dogs just looked at me over their shoulders, with that "what the fuck is she doing laying down on the sidewalk" look in their eyes...

Fucking snow.

I suppose it's better that reality got the better of me...before I started baking cookings and waxing nostalgic about childhood, Christmases gone by, and the magic of the season. I might have nauseated myself.