There’s more drama in a “cold sweat.” Sounds more bone chilling.

But the truth is it was a normal hot sweat.

I was in my neighborhood big-box store a few days ago when it happened. I was looking for a small nuclear device to bring to an end to my unseemly summer-long war with ants.

I was reading the back of one particular ant bomb, “SPRINKLE NEAR NEST. WORKER ANTS WILL MISTAKE IT FOR FOOD, CARRY IT INTO THEIR NEST, FEED IT TO THEIR QUEEN AND THEY’LL ALL BE DEAD IN JUST A FEW SHORT DAYS! HA HA HA! HAPPY, HAPPY, JOY, JOY!” I’m paraphrasing.

So I’m reading this when the softly playing store muzak seeps its way into the awake fraction of my brain. A chill went down my spine. I looked up at the ceiling. No idea why. Perhaps it’s where the speakers are or maybe I was about to cry out to heaven, “NOOOOOOO! NOT YET!”

The song was… and I’m not kidding: “Jingle Bells.”

What the?

I looked down at the date on my watch. Yes it was still the middle of September. I looked farther down. Yes, bare legs sticking out my shorts… and that is sweat and grass all over my skin from yard work.

I wiped the sweat beads from my forehead and looked back up at God -and the speakers- with disgust. In my mind’s eye God was looking back with the same expression on his face.

At that split second my mind processed what was happening in my peripheral vision. My head snapped around. The shelves across the isle were being stocked with Christmas decorations.

THE PUMPKINS AREN’T EVEN HERE YET! I checked.

Nowhere. No pumpkins. No hay bails stacked up. No stupid, annoying motion sensing talking one-eyed skull candy dish telling me to “Walk the plank me matie, arrrrrgh!”

No Halloween nothing!

I was so stunned I asked another shopper and his son if I was hearing and seeing right. They nodded.

Remember when they used to break out the Christmas stuff Thanksgiving week? That was the 1970s and 80s. And then remember years and years, even a decade later in the 90s when they trotted out the plastic reindeer and twinkling white lights right after Halloween? We were all shocked.

But holy crap people! It’s SEPTEMBER!

The phrase, “The Holiday Season,” once meant something. Now it means mid 3rd and all of the 4th fiscal quarter. I was sure the notion, “Let it be Christmas all year long,” actually meant in my heart and not on my gold card.

If you’re Jewish or Muslim or Hindu or any of the other religions, count your blessings. Madison Avenue hasn’t figured out a way to turn your most sacred days into a money-printing machine… yet. But don’t think they won’t!

But alas, the baby Jesus and Santa are a sales team American businesses can’t resist. Not even in September. We Americans have no self-control or shame when it comes to turning a profit.

So here’s what I’m going to do… If Wall Street wants to trot out my savior early this year to stretch the “Holiday Season” and help out retailers, by golly who am I to bah-hum-bug that? Of course I’m not convinced God really cares about the stock market or the housing slump or retail sales –because the poor and afflicted so often His focus in the Good Book seldom benefit from the almighty economic booms in this country.

Regardless, I’ve decided to take a positive approach. From today on, I’m going to start wishing everyone I see a “Merry Christmas!”

After all, there are only 97 shopping days left...

Peace on earth,

Mike Redding