At least two houses on my street put up their Christmas decorations last weekend, a full six weeks before Christmas. What's the damn hurry to get to Christmas?

I talked about this with the dental technician at my appointment for fillings yesterday. (Yes, another appointment for fillings. In fact, part of yesterday's appointment was to fix some old fillings that were showing stains. Now even my fillings need fillings!)

The technician said she shared my opinion, and that in her opinion time passed fast enough without our hurrying it. She then proceeded to to explain that she also hated artificial Christmas trees with "built-in" lights and visiting family that overstays its welcome. It was quite a lively conversation, if a bit one-sided.

At least some other people are perturbed that Christmas seems to be coming earlier each year, I thought to myself. But no sooner had the dentist injected the lidocaine into my jaw before I overheard the following conversation in the hallway outside:

Hygenist: "Do you think that Pike Nurseries on LaVista road is a nice place?"
Voice 2: "Yes. Why do you ask?"
Hygenist: "I think it's time for a Christmas tree."

So now I've decided that decorating for Christmas is a social disease, passed from one person to another, infecting everyone along the way. Obviously, as I'm strictly opposed to the concept of seasonal decoration, I must only be a carrier for the disease, spreading it without showing any symptoms myself.

I guess that means that if you are reading this post, you should probably take the preemptive measure of squirting some Purell into your eyes, just in case. Better safe than snowy, I always say.

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The Man with the Golden Gums: in the past month, I've spent $1,439 on dental work. That's the most that I've spent on anything in a one-month span since, well, ever. I'm well on my way to being the Six Million Dollar Man, with the entire amount spent entirely on my teeth.

A Chew to a Kill: For the record, those aren't my teeth. My teeth don't look that good. Those are just some x-rays dated May 5, 1951, that I found in my late grandfather's records. They aren't his teeth, either. He was a dentist. I'm sure that if he wasn't already dead, seeing the state of my teeth would kill him.

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