The wife and I were invited to go caroling around the neighborhood tonight. She, of course, thought it would be great fun. I thought I’d rather have my nails removed with pliers, if that were the only other option.
Fortunately, it wasn’t. I decided to stay home instead. And just to make sure that any carolers wandering by wouldn’t expect me to come out and listen, I turned off all the lights and repaired to my study with a glass of wine. I can hear them out there now. As far as they know, I’m also off caroling, in a slightly better neighborhood. A toast to me.
I guess that epitomizes the difference between extroverts and introverts. Extroverts truly believe that people would rather hear them belt out Yuletide classics than sprawl on the couch watching The Biggest Loser. Introverts suspect otherwise. Introverts like holiday parties well enough, but they also don’t mind lighting a scented candle and pondering the Christmas lights for greater truths. Or so I have read.
It takes both kinds to make the world go round, right? Actually, it doesn’t. In my experience, it only takes extroverts. And those of us who lack that gene are are damned to a life of lame excuses, forever peering through drawn curtains to ascertain whether or not the carolers have moved on.
Don’t get me wrong: We like people, most of us. We just don’t like singing about it.