When October rolls around, I’ll be dragging out the Christmas tree.

Yeah, you heard me. October 1. Go ahead, roll your eyes like it’s the end credits of a Hallmark movie. I have my reasons.

COVID’s on another tour, a sequel nobody asked for. So, lighting up that tree early will feel like a middle finger to the gloom. And this encourages everybody else to do the same. Put up a Christmas tree, fire up a menorah, or string lights on a Monstera deliciosa.

Your neighbors will see the spectacle. They’ll stop, scratch their heads, and wonder what you’re doing. It makes them think, doesn’t it? The world’s a shitshow right now. Wars, pandemics, politicians acting like they’re auditioning for a soap opera.

They’ll understand — and maybe put up their holiday decorations early, as well.

The tree? It’s your break from reality, your effort to wring laughter from sorrow. Trust me, we all need it.

Now, what do others say? Some call it holiday creep. Like it’s some kind of disease. Articles get written, social media defecate cinderblocks.

“It’s too early!” they shout like there’s a rulebook. The thing is, rules are meant to be snapped in half.

So, October 1, my tree goes up.

You don’t like it? Fine.

But I’ll be here, basking in the glow of my premature Christmas spirit, listening to vintage Kmart canned holiday Muzak, and not giving a damn what you think.