Too Big a Bite

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I've scheduled myself into oblivion.

"Where's Oblivion?"

(If you guessed the movie, bravo!
You just successfully passed another hurdle on the way
to becoming my friend and drinking buddy.)

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So, I've signed up for Holidailies. God help me.

Every year I sign up and every year I start to wonder why about halfway through. What with decorating, baking, making gifts, writing, licking, sticking and stamping for card exchanges, shopping and working, I usually wind up comatose by 7:30 p.m. each and every night. Why I think I have way more gripping things to say during the busiest month of the calendar year is beyond me. Maybe I involuntarily rise to the challenge; half the time my subconscious has signed up before my more mature, reasonable conscious mind can slap its hand away from the keyboard, saying, "Whoa, dude! Are you sure you've got time to write interesting and informative missives every single day until the first week of January? Take a second and put aside the fact that you're a serious Stats Whore; you're toying with your readers if you aren't one hundred per cent committed to this. Do you want to be a wanker and back out halfway through? Do you?
WELL DO YOU SOLDIER?"

I guess I'm committed.

No, I am committed.

I'll do it!

(I'll try, anyway. So hang in, pretty people.)

The fun begins December 7 over at the journal.