Having hunted down and killed my Christmas tree, dragged its corpse home and decorated it with lights and shiny baubles, I am filled with the Yule spirit.

Like any good American family, my wife and I spent the weekend arguing about money. Then we decorated the tree and all those nasty credit card bills disappeared in a blaze of twinkling, blinking, multicolored lights. Of course, like mushrooms, they will grow larger in the dark of our self-imposed darkness.

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