At the end of November, my plain, normal, ordinary English teaching wife went mad.

She whistled tunes about a fat guy, deer that stand in the rain and told me not to be naughty because I was being watched.

She cluttered the breakfast table with holly until I could not find my cereal bowl.

Eggnog filled each and every shelf in the refrigerator and all my root beer had been banished to the pantry. I awakened to smell the chestnuts.

It was too late to change her or find a cure, I married a Christmas Nut!

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