post-holiday stress disorder

11 Things: Post-Holiday Stress Disorder

1. Speaking: You seem to find yourself using the word "dank" in every third sentence, unlike before the holidays, when you were using the word "swank."

2. Working: You're back at the cube farm now, waiting for the harvesting. Something happened on Monday, but you can't be too certain what it was. You remember being scolded on Tuesday for murmuring "all work and no play ..." Now it's Thursday and you're on your knees, in tears, and begging for Calgon to take you away.

3. Staring: You spent most of last Sunday listening to Marvin Gaye's "Mercy Mercy Me (The Ecology)," while pensively staring out the window. You even remember singing along for a bit, giving the song a certain misfit vibe that could be compared only to the teardrop rolling down the face of Iron Eyes Cody during that anti-litter campaign back in the 1970s.

4. Heating: You're seriously considering moving your bed into the hallway, so that you can sleep a foot away from your DC-10 Dust Bunny Mounted Wall Heater, which gives off just enough "heat" to warm up three of your fingers, two of your toes and the wee little cockles of your heart.

5. Viewing: You finally finish catching up on all the movies you semi-intended to watch last year, but you make the mistake of viewing them all at once. A few hours later, you realize your brain has turned to movie medley madness mush.

6. Wearing: You need to stop kidding yourself. Nothing fits and nothing will ever fit again.

7. Decorating: You refuse to take your Christmas tree down for at least two or three more weeks, and you continue reminding everyone within earshot that the Christmas lights will be staying up permanently.

8. Listening: Your iTunes still has the Waitresses' "Christmas Wrapping" song playing in heavy rotation, and you're still drinking copious amounts of eggnog and whiskey each time you listen to it.

9. Traveling: You decide to hail a cab. The cabbie asks, "Where to?" You reply "2007." There's a short pause as the cabbie looks at you in the rearview mirror and then looks at the meter. He smiles and begins to drive.

10. Caffeinating: You hear the faint sound of your synapses snapping as you entertain the notion of a third espresso. You finish jotting down some illegible notes on a dirty napkin about "post-holiday stress disorder." The barista eyes you suspiciously and asks you to leave.

11. Preparing: You've looked at your calendar and counted out the days a couple of times now, and you're quite certain that there are only 350 days left until Christmas. Time is of the essence now - you need to get ready.

- Tim Sullivan, tsullivan@sfchronicle.com

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/01/09/NSG0UALR3.DTL

This article appeared on page G - 3 of the San Francisco Chronicle