It really may be the most wonderful time of the year.
If your eyes rolled out of your head and onto your desk at the mention of a Christmas song before the turkey’s been carved, I understand. It feels early to be referencing bells of any kind, whether they be silver or simply jingle. The nights have not quite fallen silent, nor is one any more holy than the next. The only angels we’ll have heard on high will be the echoes of the past that we’ll see in the rafters of the Dean Dome on Wednesday night.