Christmas

So far, there’s been no disaster. I think this is because I’ve don’t just about everything possible to pretend it isn’t happening short of being blatantly rude to the people who care. For posterity, and to remind me later when the inevitable horror strikes, here are the good things that happened this Christmas.

1) Don and I finally bought that hot tub we’ve been talking about buying since we got the house*. It should get here late next week or early the following week. My angry knees will be thrilled.
2) My sister bought me hard-cover copy of Name of the Wind. I’ve been lusting after buying myself a hard copy version but refraining because I keep buying trade paperbacks, then giving them away, and ultimately I think that’s good. But I want it. In hard cover. So she basically did the perfect present-giving thing of giving me something I want and will enjoy, but would not have actually bought for myself. I don’t think my present to her was that perfect. I’ll have to make sure to do better for her birthday.
3) The Dr. Who Christmas special not only didn’t suck, it was actually really fun. And I continue to adore the steampunk visual aesthetic. It’s so darned pretty. If I ever meet Stephen Moffat, I shall have to careful to modulate my overwhelming gratitude so as to not freak him out.

The downside for this year I think will probably come from work, where they didn’t want me to go out to Cleveland this week but said I could work from home, then don’t appear to have any work for me to do. I am faithfully doing everything I can to make sure I earn my keep, but I’m billing for 40 hours one way or another, and it’s their own damn fault if they can’t get their act together enough to give me something more productive than playing with my cat. I just took a year off, I do not need a week off for a holiday I loathe. Grr.

But hot tubs! And books! And Dr. Who! Yay, happy self-indulgence.

*I’ve been talking about buying it. He’s been not arguing, which could mean anything from disdain to cheerful consent. I did get verbal consent before ordering it, though it’s possible Sylvie coerced him. Go Sylvie.