Monday, December 26, 3:00 PM. Amy.

It’s Boxing Day, as the British would say. I read A Christmas Carol last night, or started to. Somehow it doesn’t have the same zest it’s always had for me. The evils of antisocial avarice. Hopes for the future, an idyllic Christmas with friends and family. The curses of wrongdoing and the blessings of good. I thought I would find a pleasing fantasy in it this year as ever. Instead it all seems kind of irrelevant.

Everyone was stuffed and lazy, but we took a long walk after lunch. It’s amazing how much better that makes you feel. Brewer was unusually quiet, though, and wanted to turn back before the rest of us. That’s not like him. I’m a little concerned. He’s seemed lazier lately, yet more impatient. It has been near-freezing recently, and this season, amid all the loss, is hard for both of us.