As I mentioned yesterday, these are open days. But what I don’t say is that the week between Christmas and New Years has usually been open for me. 

It was open when I was writing for a nonprofit and, before that, for a university. It was open during my freelance career. About the only time it wasn’t was early in my magazine-writing days, when I was a lowly assistant editor and had no accrued vacation time. I still remember how weird it felt to be going into an office the final week of December, even an office in midtown Manhattan. I was supposed to be staring into a fireplace or admiring a Christmas tree, not proofing copy!

Until this year, though, these precious holiday hours came with a price tag, a ticking clock. They always seemed luxuriously long on December 26th and 27th, but by December 29th and 30th, I was always wondering where the time had gone. 

These hours seemed to disappear at lightning speed, far more quickly than ordinary time, and inevitably I had nothing to show for them. That was the point, of course. It’s still the point. Only now the ticking clock has — sort of — disappeared.