Ok, that might be extreme. In fact I love Christmas. It's my favorite holiday. And not because of the presents. Oh no, I love all the other cheesy stuff. the cheesy music and movies. The old animatronic children's specials. The lights, the trees, the stockings, the food, the treats and even the hideous christmas sweaters. But mainly the feeling that at least one day out of the year it seems no one wants to kill anybody.
But you see I work in retail at a rather large store that seems everyone wants to go to and wreck. And then I have to spend 12 hours fixing and filling the holes on the shelves with everything from post it notes to power wheels(why in the world does a toddler need a tiny Mercedes is beyond me?). And being asked a million times a day "Do you have any Elf's on the Shelf's in the back room because I don't see any out here?" "No Miss if we did it would be out here." " Well could you be a doll and check in the back anyway, because the computer at home I checked yesterday says you do." Really? Alrighty then, and why I'm at it could you please stand still while I punch you in the face? Then as I walk to the back of the store, again, to check on something I know is not there, I pass a couple of children alone in the glass ornament row, (where's the parents? Probably in the shoe department trying on twenty pairs of pumps then piling the shoes & boxes on the floor three rows away from where they go, and in the wrong boxes to boot.) just as they drop a giant Yoda glass bulb (that's right Yoda, it's better then the Twilight series of glass bulbs) onto the floor and it shatters into a million pieces. They look up at me while laughing and run away. "Come back here you little brats and clean this up." Alas, like my therapist, they don't listen either. Then after checking for an item that wasn't there I am able to go back happily to my task of stocking the shelves with glitter covered pine cones that smell like cinnamon, mmmmmmm yummy. Of course now I'm covered in glitter and it's not the fabulous glitter that makes you feel spectacular kind. It's the "no officer, I am not the the west side sparkle bandit." kind. But thankfully, my shift came to an end and I am now home ready to pass out knowing that in a short nine hours I will back to do it all over again. So maybe the proper thing to say isn't that I'm sick of Christmas. But that I'm just a little bit tired of Christmas. Goodnight peeps.
Oh and P.S., to the very nice jewish couple that I helped with trying to find candles to fit their menorah. I know it's bullshit that in this very large store that is exploding at the seams with Christmas it isn't right that the only place where we have anything for the great holiday of Hanukkah is one end cap near the row of notepads and cork boards. I know it's insensitive but at least you got an end cap. I didn't see anywhere in the 30,000 sq ft of the store one kinara for Kwanzaa or any Ramadan lanterns when that holy Muslim holiday is observed. So consider your self's lucky that you even got an end cap is all I'm saying.