So. Seemed like the thing to do this week, living in town. Handing out Christmas cards to the neighbours (dropping them through their doors). The sort of thing that convinces the self that it's not all bad and that every so often people can be decent.
"So this is Christmas. And what have you done?"
And what happened next was interesting.
We had a couple of cards in reply from the neighbours. Which was nice. But also sort of proved the fact that most people couldn't give a shit about people, unless it's repaying a nicety, getting ahead in the nicety ranks or just making yourself the better person in the situation. Which, it hasn't gone unnoticed, is pretty much what I was doing.
Anyway. After the few cards, we had a Christmas dinner for the house. Which did the trick of lessening the grumpiness and the grouchiness that I'd been feeling of late (in fact, most of the house had been to be fair). And let me eat well, prove my maestro status as a cooker of roasts and get myself in the mood for going home for an awesome Christmas break working at the big W and selling books to the general populace. Idiots beware. I'm on the warpath and will not point you in the direction of "that book you saw on the telly about that foreign thing with a blue cover which may or may not be written by a woman.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
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