The Nightmare Way Before Christmas
‘Tis the season to people decorating too early for Christmas. We all celebrate Christmas on the same day, right? I don’t mean to be bitter, I just feel the holidays truly begin in December. Although, perhaps I’m bitter because I don’t have any decorations up yet…
I understand and appreciate the excitement. There is a chance I am already watching a Hallmark Christmas movie a day.
However, it’s the Americans that baffle me. Doesn’t decorating your Christmas tree before Thanksgiving confuse your children? They’re supposed to be thankful, but instead they’re already shaking presents under the tree, upset over the fact that their sibling has a larger present.
The only place that should already be decorated for Christmas is Santa’s workshop – for obvious reasons.
Let me be clear, I love Christmas. It is my favourite time of the year. Key word, time of the year not favourite months of the year.
It just seems people are decorating earlier and earlier each year. Soon, we really will be having Christmas in July.
I may think it’s too early to be decorating for Christmas, but I never think it’s too early to leave work.
In The Heat is On, On the Screen, I was stuck in an uncomfortable conversation. Today, I was stuck underground.
The end of the month is a busy time for Recreation Therapists in Long Term Care (and possibly other populations. I can only speak from experience). New calendars are to be completed and printed, budget to be analyzed and mistakes to be ‘missed’. This past month was no exception.
On the last possible day, the other Recreation Therapist and myself were finalizing our calendars. We were also finalizing our future plan so this didn’t happen again.
It was simple. We needed to complete 4 calendars with 4 different therapy aide schedules in approximately 4 minutes to leave work on time.
According to Madonna and Justin Timberlake, the world can be saved in 4 minutes, so we had faith in ourselves.
What a rush! I felt like Crosby (only hockey player I know anymore) in OT weaving through defence as my fingers weaved through the keyboard, hitting the printer button as aggressively as his slap shot and celebrating through the crowded halls. Except our celly was delayed when exiting the parkade.
Apparently the parkade door chain snapped, which meant the garage door wasn’t moving and neither were we.
From around the corner, another co-worker approached us asking if we were stuck. It seemed pretty obvious that we were no longer only stuck at work late because of our poor time management skills.
Suddenly the space was getting smaller, the smell was getting mustier and my patient demeanour was getting shakier.
One of our maintenance workers was called, so all we could do was wait.
My co-recreation therapist mentioned how relieved she was that her daughter wasn’t at Day Care and I was relieved that I had eaten a snack at 3:00pm.
After what seemed liked 2 hours to my gurgling stomach, but was really only about 20 minutes, the maintenance worker arrived with his street clothes on (which I have never seen before) and a big smile on his face.
