No matter how soon stores start pushing the holidays, we’re still never ready

Last weekend, I found myself thinking about the 1970s disaster movie “Airport 1975,” in which a hysterical flight attendant, played by Karen Black, has to take the controls of a Boeing 747 after a midair collision kills or incapacitates everyone in the cockpit.

Even if you’ve never seen it, you can probably picture a plane zooming aimlessly through the sky while poor, overwrought Karen — who has no idea how to fly a plane — is screaming in the cockpit and everyone else onboard is bouncing around in their seats preparing to crash into a mountain.

I mention it now because that’s pretty much how I feel every December.

To properly contextualize this, though, I must flash back to mid-September, when I went to Lowe’s in search of a new oven and walked smack into a winter wonderland of flashing lights, artificial Christmas trees and dancing mechanical Santas.

In September.

Naturally, I took photos and promptly posted them on Facebook, so I could whine about “all these stores” — Lowe’s wasn’t the only one — rushing the season.

“It’s not even Halloween yet!” I wailed.

Wah-wah-wah.

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Like way too many of you, I find myself indignant about the holiday deluge hitting me more than three months before the holiday.

Then, like way too many of you, I realize, three months later, that December has crept up on me, and the days are flying by like…

Well, like a runaway 747.

I, meanwhile, am screaming in the cockpit — like Karen Black — demanding that everyone rush to my aid, pitch in, calm me down and do whatever they can to offset my exasperating incompetence.

I know, I know: I’m such a Karen.

I will say that the days leading up to last weekend proceeded relatively smoothly. I ordered some nice gifts online, worked out the menu for my Christmas Day dinner and picked out some party favors for the annual Christmas Eve celebration at my brother’s house.

“I’ve got this,” I told myself, calmly.

I also went to the Christmas tree place near my apartment on Long Island and picked up a wreath and some large evergreen branches to “holly-jolly” up the place.

“Everything’s under control,” I told myself, calmly.

But then Saturday came along and I realized I couldn’t find my indoor decorations.

My twinkle lights! My red, silver and gold Christmas balls! My garlands! My…

Everything!

I tore apart my closets four times. In addition to not finding what I was looking for, I tripped on a slippery plastic shopping bag (filled with other slippery plastic shopping bags) and narrowly missed having a Department 56 “little village” Town Hall crack my skull open.

From the closets, I adjourned to the garage and then to the shed.

Nothing.

Worse: When I came back into the house, I saw the contents of my closets all over my living room, dining room and bedroom.

I also had to deal, on the phone, with a few friends, who acted incensed when I called them and demanded they figure out where my decorations were.

“How do I know where your stupid decorations are?” one howled into the phone.

(Hey, it was worth a try.)

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The malls were mobbed, so I called my local hardware guy to see if he had any ornaments in stock. (He didn’t.)

“How about snow spray?” I asked.

“None left,” he said, “but you can make your own with baking soda and hair conditioner.”

“Really?”

On the way to the drugstore, which always has a few ornaments, a friend called and asked if he could bring two additional friends on Christmas Day.

I lied and said, “That would be wonderful.”

I ran into the drugstore, which was mobbed, and couldn’t find any Christmas balls, just higher-end ornaments that were $10 apiece.

I asked a kid who worked there where the Christmas balls were. He said, “We don’t carry them.” I said “You ALWAYS carried them.” He said “I don’t think so.” And I said “How long have you been working here?” And he said, “Three weeks.”

SERIOUSLY?

He also told me the baking soda was in aisle 8, but I couldn’t find it. Back at the register I told him, “No baking soda. You just have baking flour.”

“It’s the same thing,” he replied.

And, at that point, I lost it and had to be escorted out of the store by two cashiers and a burly pharmacist.

Back at my apartment, I realized I had to reassess my Christmas dinner plans and finalize four lunches and one dinner with visiting, out-of-state friends.

I also had to go to the bank, bakery, pet store, liquor store, fish store, pasta store and cheap card store.

And I had to make snow.

A friend, sensing how harried I was, suggested I make “planning ahead” my New Year's resolution.

“Interestingly,” I told him, “that was my resolution for this past year, but I never got around to it.”

Oh, well.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: No matter how much we prepare, we are never ready for Christmas