This time of year, one is confronted with A Christmas Carol and the desire to speak as if one liveth in twentieth-century England. And one begins to question if one’s obsession with Quicken doth put her in the same category as Scrooge.
So, a question I beg of you, doth one’s enjoyment of reconciling one’s accounts make one worthy of a Dickens novel?
Doth one’s desire to forgo stuff condemn? Or must one be so jolly that reconciling the accounts is no longer interesting compared to Figgie Pudding.
Bring on the friends, the family, the Figgies . . . but not-eth guilt. If one chooses to spend money on trinkets or trappings, shineth on. Knocketh oneself out. Something else to account for shouldeth make one excited when accounting is one’s hobby.