The mid-month semester deadline is bearing down — two papers to submit and a final class — and I’ve barely begun Christmas shopping. Which means I’m clinging to the single-digit days of December for all they’re worth. The 9th feels comfortable, capacious even. Tomorrow, the jig will be up.

Why have we done this to December, clogged the month with so many to-dos: shopping and year-end appointments, card writing and holiday baking? Why have we taken a perfectly good, quiet month and turned it into a production?

We can blame Christmas, I suppose, and its Druidical forebears: the solstice, darkest days from which we seek solace and diversion. December is all about distractions, really. I’ll keep that in mind. It won’t help me check items off the list, but it may keep me sane.