Yeah, yeah, I actually call it Xmas when I am talking aloud, but it’s the principle of the thing. In any case, I hope your holiday is going nicely, dear reader–or, since it’s likely you’ll read this later, then I hope it went nicely. Rest assured mine is, has been, will continue to be, some last-minute grading aside.
You heard me right. Last-minute grading. And there’s more left, but that’s not for now. Be warm, be happy, be wonderful.
I’ve mellowed down somewhat about XMas after my kids were born, but this song from “Futurama” pretty much describes how I felt about XMas when I was single:
He knows when you are sleeping.
He knows when you’re on the can.
He’ll hunt you down and blast your ass from here to Pakistan.
Ohh.
You better not breathe, you better not move.
You better off dead, I’m telling you dude,
Santa Claus is gunning you down.
Brilliant! Yeah, you should see the Xmas story I’ve written that, well, never seems to sell. I have a few more markets to try and I’ll be trying them this year. :)