an eerie completeness
This year, like many years in the past, I decided to make Christmas presents for my family, of a crafty sort.
A few hours ago, I realized that something totally unprecedented was occurring.
They're all done.
Every last one of them.
In fact, as I write this, all but two of them are wrapped.
And I've still got two days of leeway.
There's a little voice somewhere in the back of my head that is convinced that this cannot actually be happening, and I must have forgotten something very important, possibly something that will later force me to unwrap all the presents, complete some nebulous last step, and then frantically re-wrap them Just In Time. But it has yet to come up with a truly compelling suggestion of what that vital forgotten detail might be. In fact, mostly it seems to be making stuff up.
This rocks.
Just sayin'.
A few hours ago, I realized that something totally unprecedented was occurring.
They're all done.
Every last one of them.
In fact, as I write this, all but two of them are wrapped.
And I've still got two days of leeway.
There's a little voice somewhere in the back of my head that is convinced that this cannot actually be happening, and I must have forgotten something very important, possibly something that will later force me to unwrap all the presents, complete some nebulous last step, and then frantically re-wrap them Just In Time. But it has yet to come up with a truly compelling suggestion of what that vital forgotten detail might be. In fact, mostly it seems to be making stuff up.
This rocks.
Just sayin'.