And as the Technicolor pharmacological cocktail that was my weekend fades to a faintly fuzzy Christmas Week, it's time to reflect on jobs well done.
It still looks as if the house sale will actually go through. I feel a bit like Scarlett Johansson, winning the lottery and going away to live on The Island (Michael Bay movies make a reasonable substitute for sleep while in a hospital bed); the Internet got the Christmas shopping done, with minimal coaxing, even managing to engage genuinely helpful humans in the process; and the foreign body to which I was playing host has been neutralized and removed, without recourse to anything resembling a "John Hurt Moment".
So far at least, nothing is becoming 2008 so much as the leaving of it.
