We made quick work of that cornish hen in spite of the orgy of corn bread and butter that we had earlier in the day.
There are presents beside the fireplace, wrapped and waiting for tomorrow morning. There are dogs snoozing in their foo-foo sweaters, exhausted from the day. Ben will be coming back from his mom’s sometime late or maybe in the morning. We cannot keep our eyes open to find out which.
“What time is it?” Trudy asked me. “I wonder if we can go to bed, yet.”
“It is 9:50,” I replied from the computer room.
I heard an exclamation of glee, and I have heard nothing since.
I know what that means. Yet here I am at the keyboard, eyelids drooping, head rolling from side to side.
Trudy had the right idea, as she of course always does. So I’ll draw things to a close, now.
May all your holidays be bright.