I didn’t actually ever mention it, unless you count daily organizational tags “mentioning.”

Which (of course) I totally don’t, and I wouldn’t have even used them, but my brain is a mess rocky, barren place organized chaos of maps and folders and sub-folders labeled for your convenience, you’re welcome my sanity, most likely. Thus, not (overly) labeling my entries would be akin to throwing myself into a room filled with papers and no paperclips. (See also: Hades.)

So, there it is. A peek inside my anal-retentive brain and! the somewhat anti-climatic culmination of a month’s worth of daily posting.

I would like to think there were some bright moments, like when I admitted how dorky dedicated to biking I am when, on a Saturday night, I stayed in to wear my new bike helmet. For a few hours. And then decided Chris should wear his, too, so we could take pictures, because that’s how easily amused I am important a snug but not too snug fitting helmet is to me. Or the day I was able to pay homage to my favorite Doc Marten’s from days of yore. Or perhaps the day I discovered my unrealized addiction to statement-y stickers, or the day I wrote about my desire for Indie Rock babies.

I do think one of my all-time monthly favorites remains the post wherein I admitted that, yes, I do have a problem, and was joined by a chorus of “Ooh. Me, too. Me, TOO. And would you please pass the pretty paper?”

Potentially entirely contrived bright and shiny moments aside, I do also know there were surely times I bored you to near bloggy death, but for the sake of my ego delicate feelings I’m not going to list those posts. Because they don’t exist, after all. And also: you are getting very sleepy.

In fact, let us purge the Less Than Stellar from our collective memories altogether, the same way we collectively purge thoughts of Britney as a doting and seat-belt wearing mother of three and thoughts of Tila Tequila ever being able to find a shot of anything beyond liquor and penicillin: with a calming circle, some Maker’s Mark, and a peace pipe. (Necks buried comfortably in sand encouraged but not required.)

Happy! (almost) December everyone. Here’s to chestnuts roasting on open fires and Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Unless of course you live someplace tropical, or someplace celebrating spring while we prepare to hibernate (Hi! New Zealand; hi! Lisa), in which case: don’t forget! your holiday sunblock.