Plaid Christmas.

My friend, Mr. Philbin, has taken me to task for whining about the little bit of snow we got so far this December, especially since the this week's above-freezing days have pretty much eliminated every flake. (I don't even want to tell you what he called me for my censorious stance over impersonal Christmas cards.)

It is probable that the stress of the season has gotten the better of me. I am not a tower of strength at the best of times. At the moment my clients are dumping all their year-end stuff on me, and I am trying to keep afloat.

Plus side: Good payday when those Christmas bills come due.

Minus: LOSING MY FREAKING MIND

And now I have a cold.

I apologize for my grouchiness. I love all my Christmas cards. Snow is fine.

But please, keep your white Christmases; I'll deal with the snow in January. And no blue Christmas. There's enough heartache in the world. Green Christmas is only thrilling for Heat Miser. Pink Christmas? What am I, a flamingo? Orange Christmas? Don't even know what that is.

No, forget the colors; this year I want (no apologizes to the Mighty Mighty Bosstones): a plaid Christmas. I told Santa I wanted flannel -- and that means I want plaid!

That white Christmas nips my nose
Got a blue sheen on my toes
Southern folks' green Christmas rocks
The beach with mandals and black socks
I don't care what kind they had
Because my Christmas comes in plaid

Santa's got all kinds of things
But I hope that plaid is what he brings
Comfy, soft, but tough and mean
Woolrich, Walmart, L.L. Bean
Don't care what color, just what size
The pattern goes well with my eyes

The only way Christmas is bad
Is if I don't get Christmas plaid

No?

I guess Bing Crosby's got nothing to worry about.