So... It is now, officially, the holiday season. In less than 90 minutes, I am leaving work to get in my car, in which I will sit (picking my nose, listening to Mahler loudly, talking to the dog, and staring at other drivers doing the same) for several hours to move a mere 30 miles. Happy holidays to me.
I have been out of it. Completely out of it. I confess to not having finished my shopping as of yet -- two days before Christmas. I'm sorry the folks on my list who, barring any holiday miracles, won't receive their presents until after Christmas. I'm a terrible friend... especially when it comes to promptness in gift-giving. And card sending. I've just given up on card sending. Forget it. If I write out a card in 2006, you'll be lucky if you get it by 2008.
In short, this is what the holidays mean to me: sitting in traffic and reminders of my forgetfulness. Well... traffic, my forgetfulness, and freshly baked cookies.