I suspect I love Christmas far more than the typical sane adult. After all, I grew up in the Christmas City of the USA. But even I don't want to think about it three full months ahead. Somewhere in early November suits me: after Halloween but well before Thanksgiving, since we have to figure out our multi-family, multi-state holiday plans a few weeks in advance.
And when it's cold and dark at 4 o'clock, all those little twinkly lights and glowing shop windows make winter more bearable. At least until January. (And in January, there are sales.)
I'll bet that if I went into Lord & Taylor on Boylston Street today, I'd find overdressed trees and their signature, revolting decorations that play loud and relentless electronic holiday tunes. (The Boston store's trees always go up first, and then all the other store merchandisers visit and take notes.)
So I'll stay out of there. I may keep Christmas in my heart all year long, like Mr. Scrooge, but I'll be darned if I'll put up with the Little Drummer Boy before the leaves are falling.