Christmas ambiance

Back in September or October, I had this dream a couple of times: it was December 15 and I hadn't listened to any Christmas music yet. This is the dark stuff of Christmas nightmares, stemming from my irrational fear that I won't have enough time to enjoy the build-up to Christmas.

I've always loved Christmas, but as I've gotten older I've come to love the weeks leading up to Christmas more than the actual Christmas Day. My family didn't have a lot of Christmas traditions growing up—aside from the eight or so family parties we hit every year—but we went all out with the Christmas ambiance: the lights and decorations, the foods and smells, the movies and music, the family togetherness and shared excitement. Living in the higher elevations, we even got more snow than most places did.

Ten years of apartment living has taken a lot of that Christmas ambiance away. Turns out you can still do a lot to create a happy, cozy place to live, but my little basement apartment lacked many of the necessities for a good Christmas season. An exterior to decorate with lights. The absence of city lights so the holiday lights can really shine. A front porch, deck, or even just a window with an unobstructed view of the winter wonderland you're living in. Space for stuff that serves no practical purpose, like 7.5-foot Christmas trees and giant pots for making spiced cider.

I got all that in bursts of Christmas cheer whenever I went home for the holidays. But this year, I finally get to duplicate some of that magic at my new house and enjoy the Christmas mood for longer. There's still nothing quite like going home for Christmas, but finally having the ambiance—at my own home—I've lacked for the last 10 years has felt like living out a Christmas fantasy.

The downside? My hibernation mode kicks into high gear every fall and only increases through January; with all the extra homeyness I've enjoyed this year, I resent anything that drags me away from the coziness of my Christmas lights and fuzzy socks and hot chocolate. During this season of get-togethers and concerts and service, alongside the ever-moving train of work, I've become a Grinch who only wants to stay home, where time slows down and relaxation is only a change of clothes away.

It's the best of times, the worst of times. But mostly the best.