Well, it's four days until Christmas and I couldn't care less. Normally, I love Christmas (food! drink! presents! sparkly dresses! pretty lights! parties! friends! family! whee!!!!) and am more festive than a giddy little elf all hopped up on the 'nog, but this year? Nope, I just can't bring it. I think it's partly because this has been a crappy year for me, and I can't wait for it to be over and partly because I can't afford to get back to Canada for Christmas, which is the first time I haven't been able to go home in about eight years. So I'm stuck in Paris (and yes, I know no one will sympathize because it's Paris and I am therefore obligated to enjoy it even if I'd rather be somewhere else, I know) with no money and most of my friends out of town, so I was planning to huddle around a candle for warmth and eat a festive bowl of gruel this year, but I ran into an friend at a party last week and we had the following conversation:
Him: What are you doing for Christmas?
Me: Nothing. You?
Him: Working in the morning, working in the evening. Want to go to a pub and get revoltingly drunk in the afternoon?
So I might have a plan after all, and it sounds like a damn fine one...