Why does December zoom by faster than all the other months of the year? I'm racing to get the revisions of a novel finished by the end of the month, and normally that would seem like plenty of time. But in December Christmas is sitting there like a great beast about to spring, messing up my schedules and fouling up my plans.
Bah humbug - or I wish it could be Christmas every day? A bit of both, actually...
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