by A Lump of Clay
Yep, it’s that time of the year again, when you would usually notice that yours
truly begins developing a strange allergy. An allergy exacerbated by the
jingling of sleighbells in a land with no snow. A jingling that leads to
inevitable discomfort. Discomfort over impending festivities. Festivities that,
were it not for the endless bounty of free cookies, tidbits, muruku, sweets and
bubbly, would have me climbing the wall in frustration. Frustration from
fruitlessly searching the pages of Holy Scriptures (“christmas” just refuses to
come up in any concordance, dang!) for some hint of any mysterious celebration
on the 25th of December, that would explain the mysterious origins of all the mysterious
brouhaha surrounding this mysterious date.
But then it came upon me on one very silent night this December.
