Sat downstairs for a while waiting for my turn to get my flu shot. As is typical in an insurance company, most of the other people there were women. And they apparently all know each other, so they chatted. And chatted. And chatted…

Unfortunately, this time of year, apparently only one topic of conversation exists: the holidays.

And so they talked about putting up their trees and Christmas lights already. And how they’re amazed how organized they are this year and they’ve never been done their shopping this early. (“I got my sister-in-law’s gift in July!”)

And they complained about how their kids/nieces/nephews/friends’ kids are sneaky little bastards already trying to figure out what has been bought for them. One woman actually uttered the words “goddamned kids” in reference to her niece and nephew. Nice.

And they compared their cross-border shopping adventures. Note: if you think people lining up at American malls at 3am is “so insane” — DON’T BE ONE OF THEM.

One woman was going on about the “neat” and “unique” things she’s picked up as door-crasher specials. Like a fajita maker. For a kid. Another woman even waxed poetic about how much she loves being in a mall on Christmas Eve. Righty-o.

Further painful proof that the “season” I’d want to be a part of exists nowhere near any of those people or their lifestyles.

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