I have tried, in my way, to be free

I just helped my dad put up our Christmas lights out front. Our light display is always weak at best--just a couple of strings in the maple to show willing and a dash of holiday spirit. There is a certain magic in an artfully lit house at night, I'll admit, but besides that I tend to be apathetic towards these exercises in suburban excess. My brother usually ends up helping Dad do it, and they usually fight, so it was probably a surprisingly untaxing ordeal for him today.

A few weeks ago I was looking forward to the holiday season, but now, with the spectre of gift shopping and businesses bringing their rowdy staffs into MY work for a cheap show of appreciative appeasement looming, I find myself somewhat Scroogey. I just have a sense of impending doom--like it's going to be an unutterably depressing month.

Listening to all this Leonard Cohen probably isn't helping either.

I need a vacation. Of course, I come to this conclusion on a week where I've picked up a shift on one of my days off, and at the beginning of a month when it is impossible for me to book any stretch of time off. I'm feeling like I did before I went to Europe--all desperate and increasingly cranky at work. I was fully picturing stabbing a woman in the eye with a pen last night. She was that particular brand of douchebag that treats waitstaff like they're stupid and lower-class. You can pick them out by the patronizing look in their eyes, and the way they talk reeeeaaally slowwwwly so that the waitress (who MUST be a moron because she is a WAITRESS) can undertand their particular requests. She did not read the menu ("I want a hamburger." "Alright, ma'am, there are four different kinds. The Grill--" "I'll have a hamburger."), and called me over by yelling "HEY!" across the restaurant at me. I could go into the whole saga of this woman and her thrice-damned burger, but my blood pressure is rising again just thinking about it.

I tell you, if I ever win the lottery and have to work a shift that night, it will be the sweetest feeling of release to speak my mind. I'd probably be fired and have to leave (escorted by the plaza security, no less) five minutes after I got my first table, but ohhhh man, it'd be SO worth it.