Happy Gravy Day.

Last night I saw the Bourke Street decorations by night for the first time.

But I was in a bad mood this morning. After a recent good run, I had two hassle-filled commutes in a row — last night at 10:30 the trains were still stuffed after the storms, and this morning, well dammit, I was just about at the station three minutes before the train was due, but then another train went over the crossing, and I had to watch helplessly as the 9:21 left two minutes early.

And I had come to the realisation that here we are, four days before Christmas, and I’d completed virtually none of my Christmas shopping.

A lunch with colleagues cheered me up a bit, but this afternoon stomping about the CBD rain, I was actively considering scrapping what few Christmas gifts I’d had worked out, and giving everybody either

a) nothing at all — damn throwaway consumerist society, that’ll show those shopkeepers

b) gift certificates — I don’t have time for this, you choose something

or
c) a goat for an impoverished village from Oxfam Unwrapped — hey if you want to go for broke, you can buy a bridge for $675.

Things improved slightly after that, and I did find a couple of good, worthwhile presents for people. But I’m keeping those options open.