Blah humbug

This time of the year makes me sick to my guts. All this good cheer is a pain in the nuts. When it’s your career that’s down in the dumps. Tidings of comfort and joy really suck.
—Excerpt from “This Holiday Season” by Porn Orchard

End of year depression is such a cliche, but I guess there's some merit to it. Without fail, I wake up one morning in December wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed, pull the down comforter up over my head and pretend the world no longer exists. Needless to say that morning came today. Oh, it's nothing worthy of a Sylvia Plath anthology and it will pass long before I contemplate sticking my own head in a oven. But it will stay just long enough to put me into a funk and send me into some introspective spiral of life maps and five year plans and that's just not a holiday trip worth making. I'd rather stay in bed.