We are in "Hey, timprov didn't die!" year.

I mean, "Merry Christmas, timprov didn't die all this year!" is actually a fairly cheerful feeling. But writing it on cards to my great-aunts, either in form-letter or in individual-note form: umm. Perhaps not so much.

(Don't worry, anyone who reads this: I am perfectly well able, with more sleep etc., to reformulate this into "so glad to have a diagnosis and an approach" chipper holiday letter. It just feels very weird from here.)