Warm 98, one of the local radio stations, is playing Christmas music. I listen for awhile, then I put in a CD of non-holiday tunes. I’m just not quite there yet. As it is, I’ve heard several of my favorite songs already and Thanksgiving’s still a week off.
They play Warm 98 in the mailroom at work. I was a little taken aback when I walked in there on Monday and Yoko Ono was trilling away on “War Is Over.” Later that week I heard “Jingle Bell Rock,” and yesterday when I was packing up a huge carton of craft projects to return to an author, my taping and weighing and labeling was accompanied by a prolonged holiday medley. Someone from another department walked in, did what I’d have to call the equivalent of an auditory double-take, and said, “Christmas music! I don’t want to hear Christmas music!” For all I know maybe she NEVER wants to hear Christmas music, but I suspect she feels the way I do: It’s not quite the most wonderful time of the year yet, and I’m not ready to sing about it. Not until the fat man appears in the Macy’s parade and I’ve begun to digest my first round of Thanksgiving Day gluttony.