I'm lucky I didn't decorate the house for Christmas. No manger, no tree, no Wizard King doll climbing up the balcony, no illuminated railing or a polygon discotheque. Nothing. Because? Am I a Grinch fan? Not at all. Almost the opposite. I was always very sad when the Christmas holidays were over, and the consequence of that ending was having to remove the garlands and other decorative elements from the house. So to avoid it, I decided not to put them. It is an absurd act because by the same rule of three I would not go on vacation because when I return I am very sad that it is over.
I feel like I'm going against the times. In this country, overdecorating is common. There are municipalities that place Christmas lights for the Virgin of August, converted into a tourist attraction. The switch-on is an event that the staff attends like someone attending a ColdPlay or Camela concert. With much more public than the investiture of an mayor.
The mayors compete to see who has the most spectacular lighting, the biggest tree, the tallest star of Bethlehem. Before, towns competed for who had the largest summer trophy. A Coruña versus Cádiz. Teresa Herrera versus Ramón de Carranza. But global football no longer understands summer trophies, it ignores the appeal of a Colo Colo-Barça that ended in a safe tangana. Now the big clubs prostitute themselves in such a way that they have no problem playing a classic in Miami at the end of July, or a Spanish Super Cup in Saudi Arabia, which we have already gotten used to, but which next week will be played again in Riad, a heritage that we received thanks to the good work of modern football professionals like Rubiales or Piqué.
While this Super Cup is being played, Christmas decorations will be removed from many streets in Spanish municipalities. A work of the municipal brigade, a power in the shadow of many city councils to which I hope that Glòria Serra dedicates an Investigation Team in 2024.
After this League of Extraordinary Mayors who fought for the Let's See Who Has More Bulbs But Less Lights cup, it's time to dismantle the beach bar. And with it, the breaking of relationships that had become strong this Christmas. That neighbor who will miss the flickering light bulb of the F for Happy Holidays, which slipped through the window of the 1st and 2nd, every night, like a bright and exciting wink, the one who always preferred with the light off. Or that endearing but look how the fish drink in the river after a true god was born that has enlivened all of her naps since last December 5.
That the holidays are over is confirmed by the fact that in the refrigerator I have two open bottles of cava, both with a teaspoon of coffee in the neck. I know it doesn't work, but I keep doing it. How many teaspoons in bottles of cava do we continue to deceive ourselves with? Join the gym and not go; buy a stationary bike and have it become a piece of furniture, or bring in a Brazilian striker who in a few months will give you the same illusion as Rafinha cutting in on the edge of the area.
We need encouragement, no matter how false. Carrots that allow us to continue, even if it is on a wheel. There are already people excited about next month's carnival. Or for the Galician elections. Or for the future illegalization of parties. Or for the next genocide broadcast on television.
There are also those who will think that tomorrow is the 7th and that there is one day less until Christmas. Meanwhile, in the office, in the supermarket or in the queue at the clinic, the most repeated comment will be that they had to end. We have eleven months to forget it.
