Fa la la la la la la la laaaaaaaaa

I took yesterday afternoon off to use up the last of my vacation time and got some good shopping done. I felt very productive. I also feel very poor now, but that's what Christmas is really all about. Just as an aside, I have noticed over my years of watching Christmas specials on tv that there are about 3942 "true meanings of Christmas." I mean, really. If I had a nickel for every time someone on a soap opera said "and that's what Christmas is really all about," I'd have a Faberge egg habit like Barney. And Christmas is never "really all about" the same thing precisely, but it does seem to fall into a few major categories: giving, family, sacrifice, parties and crying so hard snot runs out of your nose because your baby almost died and then was saved by a blood transfusion from your best friend who's secretly in love with you. Wow, this sounds really cynical. I actually love Christmas and this time of year, I promise. I guess I just find the Days of our Lives version of it to be a little over the top.

More importantly, however, I found the best sweater at Forever XXI yesterday. It's a camel-colored hoodie with a gold, sparkly fleur-de-lis on the back. Is it possible to love a sweater?