I didn’t enjoy Christmas. I rarely do. This year had the added ‘bonus’ of me reaching the age my dad died at. I also realised it isn’t Christmas per se that isn’t liked. True, much of it isn’t, like the panic and stress about who goes where and what happens when they’re there, but really it’s that whole time of year weather thing previously mentioned (links below). The meal and all the drinking, any going out and socialising (assuming I can get past the leaving the house bit), I love and can’t ever recall a time of sitting morosely through any of that.
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To Do List or Not To Do List?
There’s something that really bugs me about To Do lists. Once it was only a mild irritation. Then one day in a meeting the person sitting next to me not only did it, but kept running their pen over the words again and again to the point I’m sure it would’ve been ad infinitum if the meeting hadn’t ended.
Now just the thought of it drives me insane with a pure rage and utter fury, that much like a butterfly coming out of its cocoon, has manifested as the beautiful verse below:
N. P. Ryan 