Christmas has crept up on me this year, a surprise I was hoping I’d anticipated. But despite my best efforts I’ve left myself with too much to do before heading off to the in-laws early tomorrow morning.
So now I must rush headlong into frantic, what’s-forgotten packing and throwing clothes around the room in a panic. No more time, for reviews of the year; no time for mocking all the memes in common currency; no time for discussions of the work Christmas party; and no time for my usual cantankerous and repulsively knowing dissection of the more wrongheaded aspects of the season.
No time for any of this. I can only squeeze in a good wish to you all, a crossing of fingers, and the fervent hope that your foglights and mine stay lit until this season of mists is over.