Christmas. Ugh. We have entered into the annual Great Darkness, the misery of miseries, that terrible abomination of making sure those you love get exactly what they want.
I don’t mean Christmas Day itself. That’s actually a beautiful moment. The happiest day of the year for me is — well, OK, my wedding anniversary. But a close second is watching my grandchildren transform into a group of ravenous Huns as they charge the pile of loot under the tree.
The ugly part of Christmas, the time when I’m sorely tempted to fall to my knees and give thanks for the mere possibility of nuclear and biological warfare — is the shopping part.