The bad news was broken just last night when Ned received word of the Heffrons leaving early this year for their Christmas festivities. Ned was caught blindsided and unaware, no transportation plans to speak of. While threatening to walk to the North Pole, Ned loaded his hat to the max, a hobo-style bindle stuffed full with the remainder. Finally convinced to wait for a Lyft, Ned sits dejected and melodramatic, like a struggling novelist in any Starbucks in the Pacific Northwest. A final use of Santa’s sign. A cereal resigned to commemorative sustenance. Another season of holiday prep come and gone. Ned sits and thinks—giving quiet thanks for what this life has afforded him. The holidays are the best; his boss is the coolest guy there is; every year is better than the last. Maybe he’ll even get the next few days off!