I know that it’s make or break time for our country’s retail businesses but do they have to begin annoying me before the last out of the World Series?  Before I had a chance to stock up on trick-or-treat goodies, the shelves previously loaded with enough candy to make any mother cringe and dentists to wring their hands in glee with cavity fillings going for $60 a pop, the same shelves spilled over with Christmas tree lights, plaster Santas, talking elves and every gadget imaginable that can be hung on a Christmas tree.

My mailman used to deliver by 10:00 a.m. Now I don’t see him until sunset as we endure Eastern Standard Time once again. He loads me up with every mail-order catalog ever published, as well as every plea for a dollar for so-called charitable organizations from Alaska to Zanzibar.

I received my first “Harry & David” Christmas catalog right around Columbus Day and they haven’t failed to neglect me since then. Each catalog reminds me it’s the last chance to take advantage of all their goodies. I’ll just bet that they won’t refuse my order after December 1.

Speaking of catalogs, I must be on everyone’s suckers list, from those who sell videos to the latest in Medieval collector’s items, for those who have everything and last minute desperation begins to set it when you can’t find the right gift at Spencer’s in the mall.

Now, I don’t mind giving a buck or two for the Christmas seals that I receive but everyone else wants to get into the act, as the late Jimmy Durante used to say as he threw up his hands and did his classic frustration routine when dealing with performers who interrupted him. I have enough return address stickers from these outfits to paper every room in my house. I used to give them to our three-year-old granddaughter to play with but she’s now ten going on eighteen and that ploy won’t work anymore.

As my dog and I were taking our usual morning stroll around the neighborhood last week, my neighbor was busily stringing lights on his bushes. I stopped to admire his handiwork and to ask what he did with the stack of pumpkins, cornstalks, and the scarecrow displayed on his lawn yesterday. The sweat got into his eyes as he squinted into the bright sunlight to catch my identity and replied, “You’ve got to do this while the weather’s good, or you might find yourself out in the cold.”

“If that’s the case, wouldn’t it be better to do it on the  4th of July?” I quipped.

Like the ant in the fable, he gave me a disdainful glance without breaking stride from his urgent business. Grasshopper-like, my dog and I bounded away to enjoy our sunny-day stroll while admiring the last of Mother Nature’s fall display.

As if I might forget the need to shop ’til I drop, every retailer within 50 miles loads up my newspaper with colorful inserts. I have to wear a support belt just to haul in the Sunday paper. Sitting down with my morning coffee, I separate all of this stuff into piles, extracting what is news from what isn’t. The non-news pile is always twice as high as the news one, and I need twice as many recycle bins to contain it. However, my wife has yet to see an insert that she didn’t like. Looking for the latest sales bargains is her favorite sport, right up there with coupon cutting.

And so the mall trips begin. No day or time is sacrosanct anymore as retailers extend their hours in a vain attempt to squeeze more than 24 hours into the shopping day.

Black Friday has become just another black hole in the retail universe.