Sgt. Hasternash's Picadilly Charade

I think the mark of a truly well-run house is, as we enter into January and the turbines of the new year start to kick on around us, the Christmas tree is still in the living room. A silent relic of the past, of the year gone by, standing its lonely vigil as if to remind you that all this time past, one more time around the sun, one more second gone, was not lost.



Those people who have their tree at their curb December 26th just seem to have their shit too together, you know?

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Like a lightbulb.