The Abyss Is Cozy This Year

A Good Holiday Season

A decent gauge of my mental health is whether or not I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas. And by Thanksgiving and Christmas, I mean when the holiday stuff starts arriving in stores in mid-September until the rest of the year. It takes two days to describe three and a half months.

I don’t know, maybe I’ve been all wrong about this. The holiday season used to start the day after Thanksgiving. WHAM! Happy holidays. It was abrupt and sudden, like an air conditioning unit falling on your head as you’re innocently standing on the sidewalk. Now, holiday cheer is introduced slowly over the course of many weeks without you realizing that the atmosphere has changed so dramatically. You’re a lobster being cooked. Maybe it’s better. We’ll have to ask a lobster.

So far I’m good. I’m even buying ornaments. An Elmer Fudd ornament? Yes, please! That’s a clear sign that my mental heath is better than many years ago when even a whispered “Merry Christmas” could start a tantrum. Or maybe I have Stockholm Syndrome. Either way, I’m happy as a result of a stable or possibly delusional mental state. I’ll take that as a win.

Gosh, just where do I get these wacky ideas? Ha ha! Ok, so one morning I woke up feeling refreshed. I literally thought, “Wow, I feel so refreshed.” That was immediately followed by another thought. “Refreshed?” I never feel refreshed. In fact, it’s mathematically impossible for me to feel refreshed with the usual time I have allotted for sleep. Sure enough, my phone had died. No phone meant no alarm (the alarm clock being another victim of the rise of the smart phone). I overslept by an hour and a half.

That night I made this comic strip and I was definitely not refreshed the next day. I had set several alarms using old phones that had been called into duty from the junk drawer. I even thought about buying an alarm clock, but that just seemed overly dramatic.

Occasionally we visit Bobby at the gas station. Some people get a little confused about where Bobby is, especially if they are in a country that doesn’t have this setup. Where I live, every big box store has their own accompanying gas station. That’s four stores. Four gas stations. Four potential Bobbies.

Bobby is a gamer, but since I’m not a gamer I have to talk to gamer coworkers or, god help me, do actual research to get it right. I like gamers. I like to hear them talk enthusiastically about whatever they’re playing and it always makes me think that I should join in and have fun too. Then I think of my sleep allotment and how if I add any more activities to my day I will never know the feeling of refreshment again, not even accidentally.

This was a surprise hit. I wrote it one panel at a time without any idea where I was going with it. I like surprise hits. The word surprise is seldom followed by the word hit in my universe.

I’m terrible at responding to praise, which has sharpened my antenna for false praise or praise that’s required because it will be followed by a request. At some places, the only time you will ever be praised is when a request is coming. The requestors are always shocked when we see through their praise/request routine. They don’t realize that they’re grumpy 99 percent of the time and this sudden change in disposition is a major tell. Pity them.

I used to use self checkout because I just wanted to silently buy everything and leave, but it can be a lot faster to put everything on a conveyor belt and let somebody who’s probably a lot faster than you do it all. And, you know, you can be silent if you want to. Cashiers don’t force you to talk at gunpoint. Most of them are tired and aren’t all that perky. How much chitchat can you have as you’re loading groceries on a conveyor belt, anyway?

I always get comments from readers about self checkout. Many angrily want to check out their own things, and that’s fine, but I still contend that an express lane cashier can do it a lot faster. I’ve seen some who make it look like an Olympic event. I’ve managed to get my card out of my wallet and they’ve scanned and bagged all of my stuff in that moment. Amazing. Ten out of ten.

It’s the customers in front of you that slow everything down and they do that at self checkout too. Good news, self checkout fans! Most places got rid of their express lane cashiers. You’re in the clear. Lift, grunt, scan, bag, run out of room, shift everything over, repeat, and do it yourself. Convenience.

Idea for comic: Berle and Todd are eating. Todd is being weird. It took a few drafts, but I was pleased that Todd needed so little direction. He’s right, though. There are a lot of work details that crowd out practical information by the end of the workweek, and it all came out of a simple “Todd being weird” note. I love it when things work.

Some thought Tabby was being mean, here. I saw it as more of a surreal scenario. Tabby obviously doesn’t chitchat. If it was April Bloom, I’d understand wanting to go to self checkout if you didn’t want to talk.

This was another comic that was written as I made it. I kind of played around with the situation until it worked. There are workers who defer questions to a manager just to make life easier for themselves. They know who they are.

I missed Miss Snuggles and brought her back here. I think any and all support paraphernalia should be allowed during the holiday season.

It does get busier for gas stations, of course, but it’s nothing like the main store. They do have to mop the floor a lot from the melted snow where I live.