Xmas is a very mysterious time of year.
Mainly because whenever I’m off to do something that I’d rather not tell people about, or I’m simply running late to get home when I’d already promised I’d be there, or if I’m just feeling plain sneaky, I can answer a “where were you?” with
“Oh just picking up something. Not telling you anything.”
Works a charm.
I’m done with my shopping, which is more than I can say for some of my friends and family, but working shifts gives me that luxury of the occasional afternoon. I recently received a package of presents from Dave, which is now under the tree, apart from the cake bars. They are in my belly. (Well no, I still have 5. For now.)
No cards as yet, I think it’s because most of my close friends are here now, but I’m expecting a few. This is nice, cause I sent none. Well, I’m sending one. It’ll be more of a Happy January! card, though.
So it’s a nice time of year in some respects. But don’t get me started on the way people drive…