You may find yourself overcome by nostomania this time of year.
No, no—nostomania is not the sort of mania that causes you to become wild-eyed and rip up the house in a frenzy.
Nor does it make you scale tall trees to escape the madness.
That is an entirely different holiday issue. I’m talking about missing your one and only, Jasper Tomkins.
Nostomania is more this kind of mania:
You know the feeling. You don the cozy crimson hat your sister knitted for you last year and stare into space while absentmindedly humming “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” because you are beset by a certain melancholy that can only be called nostomania (nos-tuh-MAY-nee-uh): an irresistible compulsion to return home; intense homesickness.