So far, it's been a quiet, pleasant Christmas Day here. One friend who called me said they went to a big party last night. I do not understand that kind of risk-taking. I don't "get" people who are so desperate to gather with friends or to eat in a restaurant again that they'll gamble even the small-but-not-zero chance of getting the disease, especially at a time when there might not even be room for them in any hospital. Beastie Boys notwithstanding, you don't absolutely have to fight for your right to party. You certainly don't have to die for it, as some have.
Last night, my COVID-safe visitor and I watched White Christmas with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye — two men who were magical on the screen but not much-loved by those who knew them off it. It's a sappy, manipulative story but if you can't enjoy one of those on Christmas Eve, you're taking life way too seriously.
My main computer persists in booting into Safe Mode and refusing to come out. Most programs refuse to run even that way and it also gives me a lot of error messages that pretty much say, "I told you I was sick." When portions of the world that closed for Christmas reopen, I shall venture forth — mainly on the Internet — and find someone who can heal it. In the meantime, the back-up computer is enjoying its chance to star for a while.
So things are fine where I am. I hope they're fine where you are…or if they're not, that they will be soon. And let nothing you dismay.