It's a truth, universally acknowledged, that Christmas is one of the most stressful times of the year. Vacation is a close second.

So ask me why we decided to go on vacation for Christmas. Go on... ask.

My answer: I have no idea.

I had a meltdown about five days before our scheduled departure. Not enough time, money, or cope were left in my storehouses. Gifts still needed to be bought, wrapped, cards mailed (well, the cards still had to be found. Apparently I hid them a little too well after buying them in January at 70% off), laundry done, clothes and food packed, and the house still had very few decorations up.

You know what? It all got done. Except those pesky cards never did turn up. I finally just wrote and printed a letter on the computer, ran a snowflake stamp wheel over the envelopes and mailed them.

Gift shopping was basically done. I recruited hubby to help with the food shopping. I was tired of making decisions. So I made him choose between carrots and green beans, fat-free Cool Whip or regular, and how many bricks of cream cheese to take. Because you just never know when you'll need to make some more dip. And how awful would it be to run out of cream cheese?

Yeah, I know. Not that bad. But in our holiday push for perfection, it was a possibility I just couldn't allow.

We took four 8 oz. packages of cream cheese with us. And brought two of them home. But if we hadn't had all four... well, I shudder to imagine the outcome.