Maudlin, magdalen, mawdlin'

Can't help but feel that my recent entries have been a little maudlin.
I am feeling faint rushes of panic about whether or not everything has been done for Christmas, the end of the year, going away in January, preparations for study that has to be done in January so I can have 6 weeks off in May-June (for which the ticket is now booked).
I have attended one discussion with some colleagues about ongoing concerns about work conditions and changed work circumstances, lack of consultation and what on earth can be done about it. (precious little seemingly). We are required to sign a series of documents the basic thrust of which I agree with but some specific details of which seem positively Orwellian ( what a prescient genius that man was...see here for an eclectic Wikipedian collection ). We are required to give consent to information being collected which we don't even know exists, to that information being shared, even though we don't know what it is, where it came from or whether it is accurate. On top of that we indemnify (so it would seem) absolutely everyone so that if process abuse (or emotional and / or psychological abuse) transpires then no one is to blame other than ourselves!! It would make a good novel, I can think of a good title 2084 but someone told me that something like that has already been taken. What about Kafka meets George? If for a moment I knew enough about either then I would be so moved.
In the meantime (maudlin coming up) I am trying to coalesce a good Christmas poem, so lots of phraselets are buzzing around unrelatedly in my head, "Swoop birds flicking from tree to bush".
And this morning as I was reflecting on Luke 1:39-35 (When Mary meets Elizabeth ) I was sitting in the garden and witnessed "When Maggy meets Tilly"---and it seemed to echo. The magpie came and picked at the dog's bowl and they seemed to be at peace, and to delight in each other's company. You see quite nice, but all so maudlin.