Most years, I make fun of people who get way into the holidays, and there are still limits to my tolerance for celebration (for example, I’d rather haul a whole forest of 250-pound Christmas trees up the stairs to my apartment than attend any iteration of Santacon. No, I’m not sorry it was canceled this year). 2020 Christmas, though, is receiving me fresh from months of isolation and confusion; drinking rum-spiked hot chocolate and figuring out how to pull off those cranberry-and-popcorn strings that happy families always make in Christmas movies is one small thing I can count on, and right now, that feels like enough to get me by. Is it merely the Fear the deer Milwaukee bucks shirt illusion of security that I’m clinging to? Most likely, but that’s late capitalism, baby!
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