Dear Santa,
I need an extension on Christmas. I'm not ready. There are no cookies baked, no tree trimmed (it's not even assembled yet), and I still have to figure out what unnecessary, expensive gifts I should buy to keep two tween boys happy. (I grew up a girl and really don't understand the male psyche. The magic of nonstop video game playing eludes me). The presents have to be wrapped too and I'm kinda busy with this full time work/super mom thing I've got going on. I figure I need at least another month to put up the Christmas village and all of the other decorations and watch Charlie Brown and all the other holiday shows from my childhood, but I could get it together in a five days if I had to.
When you consider what I've accomplished in just a few short months, I think you'll agree that I've earned a break. Mr. Clarke comes to the pharmacy much more often ever since I've been there, Lou says I'm an angel and I even got an old, hard ass pill head to smile and shake my hand. No one else has been able to do that, so that's gotta count for something, right? I really need more time to enjoy the season with my friends and family but haven't yet mastered the concept of time management. Maybe by the time I'm in my 90's I'll get the hang of it. I'm afraid if I don't get a grace period I'll turn into another one of those bitter pain in the asses that I am forced to deal with everyday. Let's try to prevent that. Let's negotiate.
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