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The week between.

When Christmas and New Year’s Day fall on or very near the weekends, as they do this year, they cleanly sandwich a lame duck week. The Metro is three quarters empty. The office is quiet, and everyone there mostly talks of being at work. The tools of timewasting—TV, blogs, twitter, etc.—go unused. Everyone’s doing tired best-ofs or reruns or’s just mailing it in.

The Christmas tree is this week another task you’re putting off. Next Monday it will be 2010’s first official sign that you’re still a hopeless, backsliding procrastinator. The egg nog’s sell-by date hasn’t passed but you still smell it to see if it’s gone bad (“What’s it supposed to smell like?”) and toss the carton in the trash. Checking your bank balance, you realize you’re still paying for a gym membership you haven’t used since July, but you don’t cancel it because, hey, new year’s resolution. Last week you had a fresh bag of flour, a dozen eggs, and a new cookbook; now you feel like eating frozen pizza and ice cream every night.

This week gives you just enough time to dwell on everything 2009 a little too long. I wasn’t much looking forward to tomorrow until today.

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