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Holidayitis

I am worse than a little kid. Way worse than Henry, anyhow.

I get so incredibly out of my head at the holidays. It's like torture having to come to work every day in December. The only way I get through it is to listen to Christmas songs on my iPod and computer all day, drink Hot Cocoa and Peppermint Mocha, and do stocking-stuffer shopping during my lunch breaks.

Then I go home at night, plug in all the Christmas lights, and make treats. Almond bark. Chex mix. Cookies.

I have almost all my presents bought and wrapped. I shipped the packages. I sent the Christmas cards.

What else is there to do except for the day to GET HERE ALREADY!!! I know. I'm rushing my life away. It's the being at work that's sincerely killing me. Especially since we're not having any sort of holiday party at all. No Xmas bonus. No nuthin. Bah humbug Ebenezer. There's even a chance I'm going to have to work my vacation days, which are currently scheduled for the last week of the year.

I just want to sing and bake and watch the lights twinkle. I'd drive around the neighborhoods looking at the lights every night if I could convince my family to go with (and convince them I'm not nuts). I. Don't. Want. To. Work.

And the down side to Christmas is that once it's over, we have a long cold winter ahead, with more of the same garbage at work. The same garbage we've been shoveling for months. That's certainly nothing to look forward to.

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