Well, today was my official Christmas seeing as I'm working from 10am to midnight at the MEO tomorrow.
In the meantime, Santa was pretty good to me this year.
I got a jug of egg nog. Although I kinda wish he'd stuck it in the fridge instead of under the tree because now it's kinda chunky. Not that I'm complaining, Santa...chunky nog is better than no nog at all.
I got a hairbrush and some deodorant in my stocking. Huh. Santa must be trying to tell me something. I lift my arm and sniff into the pit of my Christmas jammies. My eyes start to water and my sinuses miraculously clear. I crinkle my brow in puzzlement. No worse than usual. I shrug and move on.
I got a fruit cake which I am currently using as target practice. I mount it atop an upside-down vase against the back wall of my closet. (I would prefer to use live ammo or a compound bow, but I guess I'll have to settle for darts...or maybe steak knives if I'm really having a bad day.) I walk back to my desk, sit in my office chair, swivel, and take aim. I send a dart deep into the belly of the beast. Candied fruit bleeds out in festive chunks. I smile. That was a kill shot if I ever saw one and I have three darts left! Damn, I'm good!
I aim higher on the wall at a picture of the Great Satan (that would be my boss) that I stapled to the dart board as an afterthought. The dart bounces off the board and ricochets into a line of clothes hanging along the wall. I smirk. No matter, old man. Your time will come. I turn back to the computer screen with a contented sigh and take a swig of chunky nog.
This is a hell of a lot more satisfying than squeezing a stress ball.
Oh, and peace on Earth, good will t'ward men and all that...