Listening to Radiohead while Christmas shopping on a cold dark night inspires a mood I like to call "peace on earth, less ill-will toward men."

So, in that spirit, I'd like to say I'm sorry:

To Mr. L'Occitane salesman, for not buying your $38/oz. hand cream. Although I did make up for it by shelling out $25 on fancy soaps for my mom. If that's not dedication, what is? (Hope you're not reading this, mom! Or, if you are, Merry Christmas!)

To the crazy woman in the subway station. I never should have put my packages down next to you, but to be fair you didn't seem crazy until you started talking to me. I couldn't hear all of what you were saying, but it seems to me that many "motherfuckingshit"s do not appear in a friendly conversation with strangers. Perhaps I appeared rude when I inched away, but everyone has their limits.

To the young dude with the headscarf: I did not mean to bash you with my packages. I should have bashed that other guy with the swinging bag, taking up too much room in the doorway. He looked like a stockbroker; perhaps you and I could have started a class war.

To the woman in the green hat, scarf, leather coat, gloves, long red skirt, and pants. I should have tried to do something, it's too much to even let a stranger go out dressed like that.

I guess we have a way to go before "peace on earth and mercy mild," but hey, I'm trying.