Each year Boss Lady drops an apple on my head. If it hits she goes "okay, still works" and we proceed to the new year.
Same as most Tuesdays, except go to the post office. We might have chestnut pudding tonight, like in the old country, but I'm not changing my clothes or singing carols!
We have a get-together of some of the local relatives, 20-25 people, ages ninety-something down to one or less.
I'm urging the activation of the missile defesce system by NORAD if Santa is not going to get me Disney princess nail polish and stickers.
Way too much paperwork! But I do shun the malls when they trot out the primary school choirs. Those adorable little voices feel like icepicks driven into my sinuses. Who could listen with a dry eye? Or nose? As it turned out, we had the chestnut puree for New Year's Eve (when we also silence the various musical acts on offer) and it was pretty good.