No. No, you haven't. Because you're too busy acting all competent and smug, having your lights, stockings and ornaments hung with care, and pretending you're in a Christmas commercial, wearing a form fitting cashmere sweater, smiling demurely and looking out your frosted window pane, while you blow on a mug of steaming hot chocolate. With marshmallows.
And I kind of hate you right now. And it's likely to continue until you remember how much you owe me, and prance on over here like a good reindeer does, to help out Princess Lisa, so she can start sucking down a few mugs of that Christmas cheer, herself. With marshmallows.
If I don't hear my doorbell ringing by midnight, you're dead to me.