His hands cupped around a glass of warm sangria, a friend said, "It's a dangerous thing for work next week, but I feel like I'm already in Christmas mode, ya know?"
Oh, do I ever. This Christmas season, perhaps more than any in recent memory, really feels like Christmas. For one thing, there's actual snow on the ground. Snow. On the ground! And then there were the mad throngs of people dashing around the city last weekend (me included), despite the slick roads, checking gifts off their lists. And my brother's home from school, and it's cold but not freezing oh my God I think I'm gonna die, and there's snow on the ground (the sparkly kind that winks at me in the sun), and the guest room at my parents' house is officially "off limits" because of the piles of presents, and there's snow on the ground (the wet, slushy kind), and my mom and I are planning the Christmas day menu, and the inevitable panic is beginning to creep its stealthy little way into everyone's lives, and there's SNOW ON THE GROUND!
And here I am in my office writing about it. Yearning to leave here and be out there. What can I say? There are visions of freaking sugar plum (fairies) dancing in my head. And they're having a rollicking good time without me, swilling champagne and drifting around in their floaty, sparkly dresses.
(Always about the booze and clothes, isn't it?)
What do you mean, "It's only Tuesday"? I guess I should go do something productive, then. Something that involves grumbling to myself and maniacally checking the clock.
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