Why Take the Lights Down at ALL??
Now, I have nothing against Santa personally, I really don't. I do worry that the Great Pumpkin's union is going to go all Halloween on his jolly ass if he keeps trying to horn in like this, but that's for them to work out. No, I'm concerned about where this is going to lead.
See, when I was a kid (and I'm dating myself a bit here), Christmas started the day after Thanksgiving--not one minute sooner, except for the appearance of Santa at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade which is tradition and, as such, could be overlooked. Now he's out trick-or-treating with the kids. Mind you, I suppose the reindeer with the light up nose could be a great safety feature when going from house to house in the dark.....but still.
It seems like it won't be too long before the stores have their traditional July store displays, complete with Santa in a red, white, and blue Speedo. I know, I think I just threw up a little in my mouth, too. No offense to Santa--there isn't a man alive who can pull off a Speedo and, if there were, the term "bowlful of jelly" wouldn't be on his resume...if you catch my drift.
And that's not the only concern. A local radio station actually played some Christmas carols on Halloween--for real. I don't know about you, but I find "Deck the Halls" and "Silver Bells" charming for about a week ("Partridge in a Pear Tree" for about 12 minutes). After a month, I'm ready to deck the moron who keeps playing that crap, quite possibly with a silver bell upside the head. We won't discuss the fate of the partridge, although I hear they're good with sauce. If my local radio station has their way, we're looking at two solid months of mommy kissing Santa Baby....and no good can come of that.
Oh, and what about the Christmas goodies? Resistance for a week or so of a work breakroom filled with cookies and fudge is doable; two months of that stuff and I'll need to be rolled to my desk.
Christmas sweaters and sweatshirts--you can see where this is going, can't you? I bear no ill will to those fine fashionistas who choose to have santa plastered lovingly across their breasts for a week each year, but the little jingle bell sewn cunningly into his hat could well end up shoved in someone's ear if I have to listen to her walk around for two months at work.
Oh, and I don't know about you...but I have a fairly low tolerance for the bright, chirpy sales girls wanting to know if I'm "all ready for the holidays?" Lady, if it's not midnight Christmas Eve, if I don't have tape stuck to my butt, if I'm not shrieking wildly at the cat chewing on the ribbons, if I'm not nipping away at the eggnog and staring wildly around the room while the tree lights wink knowingly at me, then no. I am not ready for the holidays. Nor do I want to be. It is a long family tradition to wonder desperately if there is any way to do all my Christmas shopping at 11:00 pm on Christmas Eve, even though Rite-Aid is the only store that's open (I'm sure Mr. K would love a box of bandaids and a Lady Gillette for Christmas...don't you think?). All this being the case, it is nothing short of hazardous to start asking me that question before I've managed to pour the Halloween Candy into a suitable bowl for the trick-or-treaters.
So Santa, if you're reading this, here's what I want for Christmas: go home--just for another month or so. Put your feet up, snuggle with Mrs. Claus, give the elves a night off. Don't come back until I've had at least one sandwich made of leftover Thanksgiving turkey and cranberry sauce on squishy white bread. THEN we can talk.