Are you prone to an eye twitch when you hear carols in the shopping centre?
Do you wake up feeling exhausted at the mere mention of ‘last minute shopping’?
Then you, my friend, are suffering from what those in the biz term ‘chroverwhelm’. Well, I’m not sure who those in the biz are, nor that the term is actually legit, but it sounds like it should be a thing.
It’ll be a formal diagnosis in the next decade. I’m sure of it.
We all know it. We’re at the crazy end of the year. The part I call the ‘bers. It is a functional name yet also makes me think of a Stephen King novel. Which is how the end of the year feels like for me half the time. It’s hectic, hot, steamy, mental. I have been plugging away and now I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, so of course my brain goes into shutdown mode. Or maybe I’m just really daft. A distinct possibility. The biggest thing that hits me at this time of the year? FAD. And no, not the FAD where you suddenly have the urge to grow a stately beard, wear flannelette shirts and ride bikes with baskets while sipping your double shot soy mocha latte decaf espresso out of your bric-a-brac tea cup. Though, I am partial to a good bric-a-brac cup. No my friends, I’m talking……..Fuck-a-duckitis.