My feet are numb, despite being encased in seal skin boots, my shoulders tense, my nose a cold tear drop. I can't warm my heart either, perhaps that's at the core. I've made a wreath, decorated the tree, watched a Christmas classic, made cards, eaten clementines, planned a party, but still the festivities don't live with me. Where is Cary Grant, angel of guidance, to scoop me up and take me skating, make a choir sing and let me see what's under my nose?
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