He haunts my kitchen

I guess I will take down the outside Christmas decorations. No more wreaths with their festive red bows. Gone will be the lights that brightened the dark nights in celebration of Jesus' birth. The next few days will see the tree boxed up and the trappings of the Holidays will be replaced by the monotone of cold winter days and frosty nights. The hap-happiest time of the year will be replaced by work and bills and cold short days. Most depressing of all is the snack table will be taken down. This is a temporary table we put up for Christmas dinner to hold the pies, cookies, pecan tassies and other sweets. Now just a forlorn container with a few cookies remains. We all look at the table knowing it has to be put away like just like the ribbon, bows and the star on top of the tree. It is so sad. No more munching, no more snacking, no more sugar highs. The dreaded Winter Diet looms with the New Year. It stands mute. A bony finger pointing at my gut like the Ghost of Future Christmas in Scrooge's dream. No more cookies, no more gummi bears, no more midnight hamburgers. The accusatory arm points a silent uh uh at the cheese ball and Chex Mix. A pox on Dr. Pepper, hot cocoa, and cold refreshing beer. The winter diet demands an end to gingerbread men, to little bite sized Snicker bars and red and green wrapped Hershey Kisses. The last wrapper of cream cheese lies crumbled at the bottom of the trash can. The Winter Diet is a mean bastard. We wonder why we are depressed in January?