You have entered the void. The wrapping paper is smashed in the trash, family feuds over politics and global warming are still ringing in your ears, the holiday feast has left you bloated, and Hallmark has just aired their 500th Christmas movie. You’ve just entered the void known as Betwixtmas.
Every year, we enter an existential zone when Christmas ends and the New Year hasn’t begun. It’s a week of lawless abandonment when days and time don’t seem to matter. We don our non-gay apparel of elastic-waist sweatpants or leave on our pajamas. It’s an alternate reality sandwiched between the gluttony of December 25th and the year-end disappointment of December 31st.
Remember, as Barry Manilow says, “It’s Just Another New Year’s Eve.” If we can remember what day it is. If you’re not working during the week after Christmas, there aren’t any discernible days. Clocks have lost authority, and even if you know it’s Tuesday, you must ask anyway. Begin every conversation with “What day is it?” It reassures others that they’re not alone in Betwixtmas.
Most days are filled with deciding what TV shows you’re going to binge while you ponder the next thing to eat from the refrigerator of holiday leftovers. Your body is no longer a temple; it’s a repository for things that need to be eaten before January 1st.
Breakfast is pie or cookies. Lunch is a sandwich made of items that touched your charcuterie board, piled onto a dinner roll. Dinner is a cornucopia of items left from your Christmas feast: a slice of ham, a turkey leg, or two of the seven fishes, followed by a handful of chocolates and candy canes. Wash it down with Baileys or leftover Prosecco that has gone flat. Water is for people who have goals. You have no goals until January.
If you're unfortunate enough to be employed during this limbo week, you’re likely participating in corporate LARP (Live Action Role Play), where everyone pretends to be working. If you’re checking your emails, reply four hours later saying, “Great point! Let’s circle back on this in the New Year.” This translates to: “I’m currently watching Elf for the ninth time, and I resent the interruption.”
Set a reminder to pick up your work phone every 20 minutes and pretend to carry on a brief conversation. Also, wiggle your mouse every 15 minutes. This is a guilt-free week. Remember, all your coworkers are going through the same motions. During Betwixtmas, this is honest work.
This is the period when you forget how money works and conveniently ignore that your wallet will be bleeding in January. There are clearance sales. Items are 50 to 75 percent off, and you will buy them because time has no meaning. Do you really need five rolls of holiday wrapping paper and a glitter-covered nutcracker? No. But we’re in uncertain times, and being prepared for the next holiday season feels responsible.
As December 31st approaches, you’ll realize that responsibility and plans are lurking just around the corner. You’ll make resolutions you know are lies, such as “go to bed earlier” or “stop eating like a Victorian orphan who just found wealth.”
Betwixtmas is not for living; it’s for existing. It’s a tinsel, lights, and shiny-balls buffer zone to protect our fragile minds from the harsh transition between “Festive Frivolity” and “Tax Season.”
So, leave on your pajamas. Eat the cheese log. Watch the final weekend of holiday movies that all have the same plot. The real world is going to drop in your lap like the New Year’s Eve ball in Times Square. It’s not going to be fun. Get ready for another year of anxiety, turmoil, hair-pulling, head-shaking, and screaming at the television.
Enjoy the void while it lasts.
Merry Betwixtmas
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