Twelve Days of Christmas? More like 12 hours....

Yes, the Holidaze (deliberate misspelling) are in full swing at the Curmudgeon household. Long Suffering Spouse was supposed to start her world famous Christmas baking this weekend -- but had tests and projects to grade and, when she was conscious, worked all weekend on those. I brought home three files to work on -- and actually did work on one of them.

Both of us were bushed from the week before. I did stay awake until nearly 10:00pm on Friday, but only because that was how long it took for Youngest Son to call home for a ride. He'd stayed at school for the basketball games Friday night. I didn't really goof off this weekend... I just simply couldn't stay awake.

And it's only going to get worse.

Why?

Because the so-called Twelve Days of Christmas have been compressed into about 12 hours, from dinnertime on Christmas Eve until early Christmas morning. All cards must be sent before that, all gifts must be wrapped and delivered by close of business on 12/24. Any gifts attempted after that will probably be a disaster.

Where did this attitude come from?

And then it occurred to me. It's that stupid song.

On the First Day of Christmas/
My true love gave to me/
A partridge in a pear tree....

Yikes! Talk about the ultimate "You Shouldn't Have." The tree can't stay outside and the bird can't come in. Still, White Elephant gifts are an accepted, if not cherished, part of the Christmas tradition.

But then the poor dope tries to make up for it.

On the Second Day of Christmas/
My true love gave to me/
Two turtle doves....

Again with the birds? Have you got feathers in your head where brain cells should be?

On the Second Day of Christmas/
My true love gave to me/
Three French hens....

And you just know these weren't wrapped in cellophane and stamped USDA approved.

By the time the four calling birds show up on the doorstep, the recipient is engaging counsel for a restraining order. I've come to interpret the five golden rings as an attempt to prevent the victim, er, recipient of these gifts from heading to court.

But the six geese a-layin' would just require a renewal of the litigation.

The point is, this song has taught generations of impressionable kids that nothing good happens after Christmas Day. Everything thereafter is for the birds. Far better to stay inside and watch obscure bowl games... and, if you must celebrate Christmas, do it quickly.

Or am I over-analyzing this?