I might be talking about the end of the world, or I might be talking about the darkest, darkest, darkest day of the year. These might be close to the same thing.
Only fourteen hours, give or take, till my son can talk again to the surgeon. Get the big wad of dressings taken off. Then just another week or so before he can shelve the crutches.
The window of student aggrievedness may be about to commence.
Colder? Or coldest? Or the very coldest?
The baking begins...tomorrow. Or at least the shopping for the baking. The planning for the shopping for the baking.
How many movies will I see over the break? All the movies. And when does the movie-viewing begin? Soon, very soon.
The gift-buying? Not even remotely.
--but the hour draweth nigh