Forget Christmas...

...I'd like someone to get me this for Boxing Day.

What?  That's not what it means?  Pity.

Back to work today, cruelly enough, although you could have shot cannons through the place.  Never have I spent so much time idly looking up half-forgotten names on Google, leafing through online catalogues, and cleaning out e-mail boxes.  And tomorrow looks to be worse, with a whole 'nother week of it follow as we head into the new year.  I think I'll either start my memoirs or take up tatting.

I rather enjoyed shocking the young people around the office, though, which was kind of fun.  For once, I shed my uniform of sober suit and proper necktie for jeans, and I didn't even bother to tie my hair back in its usual austere ponytail.  The kiddies seemed quite unprepared for an open-necked shirt and a riot of graying curls.  Of such small joys is this late-middle-aged life made up...