Math, and other things I don’t like to do before Christmas…
As is habit in our household, we find ourselves peering over the shoulder of the second week of December wondering if we are behind. Let me assure you, we are.
I realized this morning that, although it seems like there are plenty of viable days left before Christmas to complete the knitting, the shopping, the baking, the tree & house trimming (yikes, that’s late!) and the plan making, there are not. A little math, if you’ll forgive the deviation from the norm…
First, we skip the 25th because the two viable hours in the a.m. before gifts are open are spent making breakfast.
Assuming there are 18 days between today and the 24th and there are (optimistically) 16 available non-sleeping hours in a day, we have 288 hours to get everything done. Wait, there’s that pesky “working and commuting to survive” thing I keep doing. I took a few vacation days so that makes 10 working days times 12 hours of work + commute + dinner, so we are at 188. That brings our day count down to 10.5, in case you wondered.
That’s not bad, you might say, but I’m not done. Next, I deduct 2 full days for holiday parties at respective work establishments. Yes, full days. Between eating, getting ready and sleeping in, it’s a day. Don’t fool yourself. 136 hours left! Woohoo!
Except I still eat, so again a few of those 8.5 days are shaved down and somehow, I lose a whole other day to EATING! As if I won’t eat enough over the holidays. Oh wait, a day and a half because I probably can only eat if I have groceries. I also “lose” a day from a couple of previously planned evening events.
Six days, though, that sounds pretty good. I have to drive to the border to pick up my U.S. shipments, but I’ll just knit in the car. The rest of these hours, I just won’t go to my hair appointments, or make appointments, or talk to my children and my friends, or blog, and I certainly won’t get sick. Totally doable. Nothing says “Happy holidays” like a slightly crazed person with scraggly hair tossing you a sock with a knitting needle sticking out of it while slowly drifting into a coma.
I hate math.