One down. Two more to go.
I love this time of year. I can dink around in holiday minutia — like sewing a glitter cat on a leotard or rearranging spooky votives — and totally avoid facing more important issues. I don’t even need to procrastinate. I have too many meaningless things to do.
I’m scurrying around — unfinished, sleepy and bloated. I’ve eaten a lot of stolen chocolate. I’m happy. Well, happy-ish.
It’s probably the chocolate.