Dear Santa,

Since you don't seem to have a claims or complaints department, it looks like I have to address this complaint directly to you. I realize that today is the 23rd of December, and that you're plenty busy putting together packages for all the good little kids, but given that I'm about to fall asleep where I sit, I don't think this complaint can wait much longer.

I want a refund on your portion of this year's Christmas. Jeff and I are both completely unimpressed by our gifts so far. We believe we have been far better humans than our 'gifts' would indicate, and believe our only course of action is to register a complaint.

I realize that we must respect and honor the many ways that people choose to [not?] celebrate the Christmas season, but I did a bit of online research just now and have conclusively determined that food poisoning is not a way of celebrating Christmas in any culture.

I realize that you and Fate like to get together on Fridays and drink a few rounds and laugh at the foibles of humanity, but this kind of prank is far beneath a multicentenarian cultural icon like yourself. Have some bloody kindness, for God's sake; it won't kill you. At least let me have some dignity.

Did you get a kick out of me involuntarily tossing my cookies into a garbage can at Publix because the smell of the store / food / perfumes of other shoppers made me nauseous? I certainly didn't.

We are unamused. Well, I take that back - I'm unamused and Jeff is currently asleep. I think that still counts as "unamused."

I hope you're not expecting cookies on Christmas Eve - given that we're on the BRAT diet (bread, rice, apple products, toast), cookies aren't exactly in the culinary repertoire of this house at the moment.

Get back with me on this refund business. You know which house we're in.

Amy

P.S. - The kitties want me to tell you that they are retracting their appreciation for the new scratching boxes you gave them this weekend until 'their humans' feel better.