The other day, I did a post in my other journal about The Ethicist and how this person wrote in about a co-worker who faked having cancer and whose work was redistributed to other co-workers, but who was never punished by management.

I told my mother I was all about public shaming.

She thought I was mean --- as if this was something I was going to actually do when I got into work and that this was something that had unfolded while I was at work.

You know, I don't really get why she always seems to think that the things I say I'd do if I was in such a situation are things I'm about to do at any second unless she talks some sense into me.

That's how my mom and I are different, though...she's all about turning the other cheek, being the better person, etc....and maybe that makes her a better person than me. She's certainly more forgiving. Me? Fuggedaboudit.

I once read that the truly wise person will forgive but never forget.

Guess I'm not so wise...though, I'm working on it, you know? After all, the opposite of love isn't hate; it's indifference.

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I love that week at work when most people bridge the time off from Christmas to New Year's --- most people are at home, doing nothing, while I'm at work...not exactly doing nothing, but a whole lot less than I would be if everybody and everything was swinging at full gear.

When I tell people I'm working through the holidays, they make that face that goes, "Oh, poor you", which I don't get, because over the last couple of years, being home during the holidays gets kind of boring. I kinda think that the holidays were meant for kids. And Christmas in Toronto just isn't what it used to be.

For one thing, there's no snow this year.

There was no tree up, no wrapped presents. And it was fine.

Met up with a friend yesterday who had moved back into town. You know what I think marks a good friendship? When you can pick up from where you left off and it's like nothing's changed.