I've never thought of myself as an especially festive person. I enjoy holidays - I like going home to visit and spending time with friends and family and I love getting time off of work (I mean, who doesn't?), but I don't have special Halloween socks, I don't start preparing for Christmas in September (except for buying my plane ticket home to Minnesota....but that's not festive it's just good financial sense) and I don't think I ever actually believed in Santa Clause. I truly love sitting down to a big Thanksgiving meal with people I care about, I honestly enjoy carving pumpkins, and I have been known to pretend to believe in Santa Clause but I don't get that childlike excitement went I look at a calendar and see a holiday in the near future and, as I alluded to earlier, I don't have a single holiday-themed piece of clothing (no American flag t-shirts or shamrock earrings). Basically, I don't live for holidays...but I think I enjoy them as much as the next person.
Last night, though, for a split second, I turned into a big grouchy holiday hater (along the lines of Scrooge or the Grinch - yes that bad). I'm not proud, but it makes for an ok story.
I had to run a Christmas-related errand for work before going home for the night. It required going to the Container Store to purchase 130 small cardboard boxes for the employee gift, which needed to be wrapped today. I've discovered recently that I don't always think things through as thoroughly as I should and this is a perfect example. Yesterday was the first "winter storm" of the year. Being a product of the Midwest and having spent a significant time in Minnesota, I tend to be a bit of a snob when it comes to "winter storms" in the DC area (hence the quotes). Yes, it was snowing and, yes, it had been snowing all day and, yes, it was cold, but I walk to the Container Store all of the time and driving 7 or 8 blocks seemed like waste of gas....plus, who wants to pay a meter? I decided with resolution that I would walk to get the boxes....I would show...(I actually have no idea who I would be showing or what I would be proving but at the time I was really stinking determined).
It became pretty clear about 1/2 way there that walking was a bad idea. The cold wasn't so bad as long as I kept my hands tucked in my sleeves and my hood up but I was wearing heels and the sidewalks were slippery. It was also at about that point that a little voice in the back of my head started to whisper questions like "How many boxes are you getting again?" "How heavy will these boxes be?" "How many bags can you carry?"
Wet, cold and annoyed at myself for making stupid decisions, I made it to the store and made a bee line over to the gift box section where I saw exactly what I was there for - a big pile of 10x5x4 gift boxes. As I started to count the boxes out, though, those annoying questions came back..."Gosh, just a pile of 25 is pretty steep...can you really carry 130?" "Will the snow make the bag soggy?" "What if the bag gets soggy, the boxes fall through the bag and land in the snow and then they get soggy and gross and don't work?". As I was counting and obsessing and worrying, a piercing sound filled the store. Somebody somewhere in the Container Store at approximately 6:30 PM on December 6th, 2007 started to whistle (loudly and shrill-ly) along with the instrumental version of "White Christmas" that was booming over the loudspeaker.
I cannot even describe the feeling of irritation that swept through my entire body. As I counted and counted and counted and the whistling grew louder and louder and louder I really wanted to find the person and somehow make them stop. It was completely irrational and pretty unreasonable to be annoyed with somebody who I couldn't even see...especially when they were clearly in a good mood and trying to spread holiday cheer. I knew that it was ridiculous but my frustration was uncontrollable...it was the wrong night in the wrong place. I counted as fast as I could and practically ran to the register where I hurriedly placed my basket full of cardboard on the counter and the cashier started re-counting. Close to escaping the happy holiday tunes (Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, at this point) I started to calm down a bit, knowing that the end was near. The, suddenly and without warning, the whistling (louder and clearer than ever) was directly behind me. I turned and there she was, beaming as she whistled away, full of joy and excitement, completely oblivious to the pain her expression of happiness was causing me.
The cashier must have somehow sensed my anguish and she got me through the process fast (or maybe she was annoyed too and wanted to get the whistler through the line and out of the store as quickly as possible). At any rate, it wasn't long before I was back outside in the cold and the snow, walking awkwardly on the ice as I carried two heavy bags which were digging into my freezing hands (now fully exposed to the winter air), still angry with myself for making stupid decisions.
It was a miserable walk home but there was one thing that kept me going. Yes, conditions were terrible and, yes, I was suffering for my bad choices but you know what? I was no longer trapped in the Container Store with the whistler...and that brought me great joy.
I'm a nice person...I really am! There's just something about whistling. Grrrr...
Happy Holidays!
Last night, though, for a split second, I turned into a big grouchy holiday hater (along the lines of Scrooge or the Grinch - yes that bad). I'm not proud, but it makes for an ok story.
I had to run a Christmas-related errand for work before going home for the night. It required going to the Container Store to purchase 130 small cardboard boxes for the employee gift, which needed to be wrapped today. I've discovered recently that I don't always think things through as thoroughly as I should and this is a perfect example. Yesterday was the first "winter storm" of the year. Being a product of the Midwest and having spent a significant time in Minnesota, I tend to be a bit of a snob when it comes to "winter storms" in the DC area (hence the quotes). Yes, it was snowing and, yes, it had been snowing all day and, yes, it was cold, but I walk to the Container Store all of the time and driving 7 or 8 blocks seemed like waste of gas....plus, who wants to pay a meter? I decided with resolution that I would walk to get the boxes....I would show...(I actually have no idea who I would be showing or what I would be proving but at the time I was really stinking determined).
It became pretty clear about 1/2 way there that walking was a bad idea. The cold wasn't so bad as long as I kept my hands tucked in my sleeves and my hood up but I was wearing heels and the sidewalks were slippery. It was also at about that point that a little voice in the back of my head started to whisper questions like "How many boxes are you getting again?" "How heavy will these boxes be?" "How many bags can you carry?"
Wet, cold and annoyed at myself for making stupid decisions, I made it to the store and made a bee line over to the gift box section where I saw exactly what I was there for - a big pile of 10x5x4 gift boxes. As I started to count the boxes out, though, those annoying questions came back..."Gosh, just a pile of 25 is pretty steep...can you really carry 130?" "Will the snow make the bag soggy?" "What if the bag gets soggy, the boxes fall through the bag and land in the snow and then they get soggy and gross and don't work?". As I was counting and obsessing and worrying, a piercing sound filled the store. Somebody somewhere in the Container Store at approximately 6:30 PM on December 6th, 2007 started to whistle (loudly and shrill-ly) along with the instrumental version of "White Christmas" that was booming over the loudspeaker.
I cannot even describe the feeling of irritation that swept through my entire body. As I counted and counted and counted and the whistling grew louder and louder and louder I really wanted to find the person and somehow make them stop. It was completely irrational and pretty unreasonable to be annoyed with somebody who I couldn't even see...especially when they were clearly in a good mood and trying to spread holiday cheer. I knew that it was ridiculous but my frustration was uncontrollable...it was the wrong night in the wrong place. I counted as fast as I could and practically ran to the register where I hurriedly placed my basket full of cardboard on the counter and the cashier started re-counting. Close to escaping the happy holiday tunes (Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, at this point) I started to calm down a bit, knowing that the end was near. The, suddenly and without warning, the whistling (louder and clearer than ever) was directly behind me. I turned and there she was, beaming as she whistled away, full of joy and excitement, completely oblivious to the pain her expression of happiness was causing me.
The cashier must have somehow sensed my anguish and she got me through the process fast (or maybe she was annoyed too and wanted to get the whistler through the line and out of the store as quickly as possible). At any rate, it wasn't long before I was back outside in the cold and the snow, walking awkwardly on the ice as I carried two heavy bags which were digging into my freezing hands (now fully exposed to the winter air), still angry with myself for making stupid decisions.
It was a miserable walk home but there was one thing that kept me going. Yes, conditions were terrible and, yes, I was suffering for my bad choices but you know what? I was no longer trapped in the Container Store with the whistler...and that brought me great joy.
I'm a nice person...I really am! There's just something about whistling. Grrrr...
Happy Holidays!
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