Sometimes, it's hard to feel the Christmas. (We're singing this to the tune of Stand By Your Man, by Tammy Wynette, by the way.)
This week I read this post by Fluid Pudding - one of my all-time favourite bloggers - and nodded vigorously all the way through it, all the time shovelling Asda-brand chocolate mints into my mouth. I know she's moved on since then, but sod it - I haven't.
Each morning the children get up, and open their Advent calendars, and leap with joy at the shape of the chocolate inside the little window, and are amazed that the chocolate is the same for both of them even though their Advent calendars are different. And they haven't even realised that Marks and Sparks have made a load of generic Advent calendar chocolate trays, and just printed different pictures on the front. And this knowledge makes me Devoid of Christmas Magic.
My Advent calendar is the UK Campsite website. This week I entered a prize draw to win a windbreak. A windbreak. If anything is Devoid of Christmas Magic, it is a windbreak.
I got a phone call asking me what the Lattes want for Christmas. Experience tells me that whatever I say, entirely different items will be bought which no-one actually wants.
The other day I tried to break my festive funk by going to the garden centre, which promised to be a feast of shimmery Christmas lights. I imagined there would be music, and pine smells. What I found was a basket full of dead stags' heads.
It made me really rather worry for my sanity. Or the sanity of the people who were expected to buy them.
I had gone in search of little laser-cut houses, which I saw as dressing in a shop window and found incredibly beautiful. There's a gorgeous range that can be bought here, but I can't in any way justify the cost and am in such a cranky, bad mood that I fear that the guilt incurred by throwing money at a problem will only make things worse.
So I bought a big piece of cardboard and a knife. I will make one myself, I thought. I've done it before. When I will get around to this I have no idea. I have home-made presents which are not going to make themselves, I have children and a job and a house and, and - I don't know if it's a good idea to unsheath a Stanley knife when there's sherry in the house.
So for now, I'll be over here trying to pick up abandoned, half-made children's Christmas cards (which have pictures of Moshi Monsters zombies on the front), and sweeping up glitter, and running round town trying to source presents so popular/ unpopular (delete as appropriate) that even Santa can't come up with the goods without my help.
Keep singing your Christmas carols at me - no doubt I'll join in eventually.