Christmas in July and August and September and....

By no fault of my own (unless you count choosing this newsroom as my place of employment) my co-workers have exposed me to CHRISTMAS SONGS ALL WEEK LONG!!
Look Left came into the newsroom bright-eyed on Monday singing, "It's the Most Wonderful Time of The Year." In his mind, the most wonderful time of the year is when the rugrat goes back to school and Daddy Daycare turns back into Daddy Day Shift. I don't blame him. I can imagine as much as one loves their offspring, there are only so many bike rides and Lego sessions a person can take.
None the less, this song has been in my head, "broken record style" for the last day or so.
The worst part is that I don't really know the song, so I'm all: "It's the most wonderful time of the year. They'll be hot dogs for grilling and everyone telling you be of good cheer. It's the most wonderful time of the year."
Now I know, that there is nothing yule-tide about grilling wieners (these are clearly the wrong lyrics), but there is also nothing yule-tide about August.
Just when I thought the effects might be wearing off, Speakerbox, in the sports department, starts whistling "Frosty the Snowman" and "Jingle Bells".
What the Hell?
Now, I have to say that one of my favorite qualities in a person is that they have a good whistle - I learned this from my great granny - and this fella has a great whistle. Perfectly on tune with little trills and turns; the kind of whistle that makes you want to be a dog owner.
But it's all about the selection, damn it.
I suppose this Christmas compulsion could be linked to this man's inability to have an interior monologue. Hell, for all I know, my subconscious is singing "Silver Bells" right now.
And with that, "Silver Bells, Silver Bells, It's Christmas time in the city."
Hope you enjoy the contagion, bee-otches!