Of chocolate and a nervous breakdown

Sinterklaas ("Sint Nicolas", to anyone who's not Belgian or Dutch. It's my belief you made the poor man fat, turned him into "Father Christmas" and forced him to stay in the country till December 25th) brought me a whole lot of chocolate.
The poor man obviously didn't know where exactly to find me (he IS getting old, after all) because he delivered choccies at my parents' place, at the girlfriend's workplace and in my workplace as well. That's three packages of chocolate.
Well, he may not know the place, he sure knows the quantity!

I've decided I want a Christmas tree.
A real-looking fake one, with lights.
Unfortunately, after braving to look at my netbanking statistics, I've noticed we're already virtually broke. After only one month of living together! Aack!
I shall not panic.
I shall not panic.
PANIC!

*breathes in and out*
I'm ok again, really.

And I still need to send all my christmas cards and presents. Including the ones abroad. Ah bugger.

You know, I think this PsychoPiglet site might not be a bad idea after all. I could use some counseling!

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