Time has gone into acceleration mode – it is December. Physics tells me that time proceeds at the very same pace through March as it does through December, but my experience tells a very different story.
Each year I stand at the top of December, as if it were a mountain. My skis are strapped on and the best I can hope for is that the mogul field will be short and the snow forgiving. If I gather enough speed in the first week, the downhill ride will be smooth (that is, I will remain upright); if, on the other hand, I stall early, I will struggle until the inevitable drop off to the last week (and probably do my world-famous face plant tumble into it).