I read recently where in ye olden days, the Christmas celebrations didn’t cease on December 25. They just got started.

Apparently, Christmas wasn’t just a one day shindig. It was a 12 day feast. That sounds like my kind of party.

But my second day of Christmas saw me going back to work in the cold rain. Not much joyful or triumphant about that.

At least I have my Vintage Christmas stories to entertain me on my long trek to work. They’re all short stories and poems from the likes of Louisa May Alcott, Charles Dickens, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Mark Twain, L. M. Montgomery, and others. It’s so very 19th century.

My plan is to watch my Christmas movies until at least January 6 (or whenever the Day of Epiphany is that marks the official end of Christmas). I may watch past that if the mood hits me.

It will be a bit sad to see all the festive decorations come down for another 11 months or so. There’s something about lit-up houses and yards full of seasonal characters that always lifts my spirits on a grey and cloudy day.

But I still refuse to let Christmas go just yet.