Couldn't Think of a Title

Christmas is inadvertently overwhelming me. I've got all my Christmas shopping done, but all the ancillary actives are using up all my time.

- I need to research how I'm going to get to the airport at 7:05am on Christmas Eve.
- My apartment desperately needs cleaning before I go so I don't come back to a fuzz-covered carpet.
- My laundry needs doing, but I can't seem to find a spare evening in which to do it.
- I need to wrap a present for my landlord which requires buying some wrapping paper. (I usually wrap things in stolen pages from the huge stack of Chinese newspapers in the garage, but I don't think she'd feel that was very festive.)
- I've received several Christmas cards in the mail - the kind with pictures and letters summarizing the past year. I kind of feel like I should write one, but I just don't know if I can summon the motivation to do it. Especially when I realize that nobody will get it until New Years.

In other frustrating news, I've just finished a disappointing dinner of milk and truffles. (The chocolates not the pig discovered fungi.) The disappointment by no means stems from the truffles, they were home-made-not-by-me and therefor delicious. No, the disappointment comes from me waiting two hours for the oven to finish a Butter Ball turkey roast, and now I can't figure out how to get the turkey out of its stupid elastic hairnet thing. The little card on the outside of the package said specifically to cook the turkey roast skin-side down inside the netting. I did so and now the netting is a permanent part of the turkey and my left pointer finger and thumb are tender from turkey burns.

I'm going to let the turkey cool, finish the episode of Man Versus Wild I started this morning, and hope that the African savanna into which Bear parachuted while I ate breakfast gives me some insight on freeing turkey bits from a spandex meat net.