Officially, you hate Decembers. And you will for the next ten years.

Carol wants to move to a new house yet again. She wants Farrah to go to a new and better school. Of course, it comes with her new job and territory.

Moving a house is a terrible way to spend time and money in your life. For starters, you will never find the perfect house that is affordable and in the precise location you want it. And women have this annoying notion that it is the man who is supposed to search for a house. Not fair.

Secondly, the landlord is sitting on a Sh55, 000 deposit on your current house and you are not getting any of that money back -- unless you move out, kill a pig in your present house and break everything to ensure that all the deposit goes into repairing the house for the next occupant.

Looking for a school is not easy either. These private schools are operated by capitalist sadists. You have to plead and pay through the nose for your daughter to be allowed in. Not cool.

Then there is the Christmas politics if you married from a different tribe. This time, Carol wants to take Farrah and the little boy to her mother’s place. And when you show up at home without your wife and the people at home, they will start asking you, “where is your family?”

You can’t defend yourself by saying that she went to see her mother. That is recklessness and being highly irresponsible. But Carol’s middle name is Stubborn. She doesn’t care about the cultural mores of your family or community. Besides, she honestly hates your bundus, for many reasons, including the mosquitoes and the road to your place when it rains.

So, this December, you are navigating the pain of looking for a house, moving to a new house and getting a school for Farrah. This hardly gives you time to get into the festive mood. You miss and pine for the good old days when December was a time to swim in the ocean, drink and be merry.

Then there is all manner of fuzzy and annoying activities to attend. Your niece has a wedding and you have been given a role. There are several birthday parties to attend. And God forbid that there will be a funeral.

So, here you have a month that is supposed to be a holiday, but human beings always conspire to be busier whenever they have earned some good rest. That is how we killed Saturdays. For some, it is the busiest day of the week.

And now December has the same vibe of so much nonsense. None of the activities taking place has anything to do with you. You are just roped in and you have to behave decently even when the stuff sucks the soul out of you.

You just wish the year ended already so you could start another one. December is officially the worst month of the year.