Ah, Christmas shopping... because the chief thing Jesus was trying to get across in his teachings was, and I think this comes across particularly clearly in the Sermon on the Mount, that we should all have more stuff.
Bah humbug! But, I shouldn't be so cynical, and the last time I posted anything even vaguely religious I got spam comments trying to save my soul, which I truly appreciate believe you me.
But, I don't think Christmas in its modern form brings the best out of us really, and it's not a time of year I enjoy.
It's also - because this is another key tennet of the Christian message - spazzed central.
This will be my second sober Christmas, as, although I hadn't been detoxed and I wasn't really engaging with any treatment for alcoholism last year I was abstinent at the time. It didn't survive long after that.
Actually, the whole bloody set-up seems designed to throw the unsuspecting recoveree (as I am moved to style myself today) screaming towards the nearest gin palace for a 12 day bender.
You're expected to spend money - in fact it's your moral duty and if you fail to do so you are a despicable failure - so any financial problems you may have will be racheted up a notch or two.
Family will come round. In my case two sets of parents who've only met each other once (last Christmas) and to me seem to have little in common. Mrs CD considers herself hostess, which she loves, but which also puts her own often delicate equilibrium under heavy stress. And, of course, everyone drinks, all day.
At the moment, I just want to bugger off somewhere quiet on my own. In fact, it would be perfect! My mum and dad could come here and I could go there. No bother.
Counselling on Tuesday, which, as ever, I'm looking forward to - there's a lot to talk about and at this very moment in time I feel the prospect of it all rather exhausting.
No reply yet, of course, from Ex - is that good or bad? Who knows. It's pretty upsetting - but, knowing the history quite understandable - that someone who means so much to you is unreachable. But then, when I fuck up, I tend to fuck up big time.
Not happy thoughts.
So, this Sunday, I think it's safe to say that while there are some minor improvements in the routines of living, the big picture is one of stormy weather.