On the Third Day of Christmas, my true love gave me beans and rice

I'm too tired to begin the infodump today, but the thought of leaving another day blank on my archival calendar is simply too dispiriting. Besides, I need to kill a little time, since going to bed too early is paradoxically as bad for me as going to bed too late. (I end up waking up in the middle of the night, unable to get back to sleep for a couple hours regardless of how shagged out I am.) I'm not sure I've entirely dodged my traditional post-Christmas cold, but I've been sucking zinc all day and my will is strong.

It's a little late to wish anyone Happy Boxing Day (particularly as those of you in the UK have already moved on to Holy Innocents), but I feel like I can't let escape this uncommon opportunity to point out why I do not use the term as a synonym for "the day after Christmas". Of course, I may be committing an equivalent error by using "St Stephen's Day" in this fashion because its celebration yesterday was superseded in the official liturgical calendar by the Feast of the Holy Family. (Sorry, people named Steven, sucks to be you.)