Dear This Time of Year,

Dear This Time of Year,

How are you? Good? I'm doing well, too, thanks for asking. Getting a bit chilly out, huh? Yeah remember to button up your coat so you don't catch a cold. Flu season is supposed to be a real doozy this year. Well, this was nice catching up with you like this.

I do have a favor to ask of you though, This Time of Year. You see, now that Halloween is a distant memory and Tom the Turkey is about to get murdered so that we can celebrate the Mayflower and stuff, there's been a little something that's been bothering me about you, This Time of Year. Look, times are tough. So please, please, please, stop having people ask me if I want to buy some holiday stuff for their kids school. I, in fact, do not. While we all need wrapping paper, I'm going ot pass on the two sheets you'll sell me for $14.95. I also don't have any need for 2 tubs of gummy-worms. I don't need them for $19.95 and I also don't need them for free. I'm an adult. Sort of.

I also am all set with purchasing your child's school raffle calendar for a chance to win a whopping $100.00. Sure, $100.00 is nice, but after you tried to rob me of $25.00 for the damn calendar itself I'll only be up $75.00 and, if I won, I'd probably just spend it on booze. No thanks.

I also don't want to read your kids letter to Santa. I have enough proof that your child is a brat without reading what they "demand" from one Mr. Santa Claus. I also don't want to look at the picture that your kid drew of a turkey by tracing their hand on a piece of paper. Wow. Original. It looks nothing like a turkey. I don't care how many hats and claws your "talented kid" added to it. Unless it's being drawn by my brilliant niece, I'm not interested.

I'll also pass on anything that you're bringing into work that you baked "at home." You have cat still, right? Yeah, I'll take my holiday brownies without cat hair in it, thanks. And I'd bet my calendar raffle tickets that you also let your cat lick the egg-beater. Yuck.

In conclusion, This Time of Year, please just let me be. Let me finish up work and let me spend time with my family and friends. Stop trying to sell me everything under the sun. Just because you have your kid come into my office, don't think I won't tell them that their parents are using them as sweat-shop workers at their own personal illegal-child-labor-school. How about if we just trade stuff? That way we both get things we don't want or need. I'll get that tacky cheap wrapping paper and, in turn, you can have my computer mouse that has a fake tongue hanging out the side of it that says, "Is it Friday yet?" Deal?

Merry Thanksgiving Eve,
IBBB


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