I can pretty much pinpoint the time it hit me. I was sitting on the couch, top button undone, trying to stave off a Thanksgiving food coma to make it through “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving” and contemplating how I should get to the gym in the morning to do some sit-ups — which, of course, I didn’t.
Snoopy had served up the jelly beans and pretzels, Peppermint Patty had lost it, and they were loading in the car to go to grandma’s for a real feast, when that feeling of dread set in.
We were now officially in the Christmas season.