As in the day time before we start our Christmas festivities - being 'funny foreigners' we do stuff Christmas eve. This time we're paying someone else to feed us all (and do the washing up) eating at The Dashwood, which sould be nice.
All the pressies are wrapped, food's in, fire lit, cell sub-cultured or in liquid Nitrogen storage and Ben is out digging snow off a parking space, so my brother and his family can park here.
So why do I feel so bushed?
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