A bonus one, because this could not wait until December. Or October. Or whenever we have all agreed the year is allowed to start.

It is September. Joseph is in Costco on Highway 7 buying sunscreen, in shorts, in twenty-eight degrees, and there is a fourteen-foot pre-lit Christmas tree in the middle of the aisle next to an inflatable snowman. Nobody says anything. Everybody just pushes their cart around it.

So he says something. Out loud. To a stranger.

This one is about the people who stole the calendar. The conference room that decided December should start in September. Gina, in a puffer vest and Uggs in August, posting an iced pumpkin spice latte captioned "fall vibes" while the trees behind her are bright green. Spirit Halloween moving into whatever died this year. And the one thing in this country that still happens exactly when it is supposed to: tomato season in Woodbridge, with the uncle guarding the pot and two aunts fighting about the basil.

Also a confession involving a fourteen-foot Christmas tree currently sitting in a garage in King City.

You are not getting ahead of December. You are deleting September.

Got a mess of your own? Send it to info@jeopublishing.com.

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