Quiet house.
An ice maker provides the backdrop chorus. It’s the only thing stirring. Other than the coffee maker and the keyboard. My time. A quiet house. God, I love a quiet house. No matter where it is in the world.
Tomorrow, the kids will liven it up. My son moving to the subdued side while his cousins’ kids take over the front of the Christmas train. Toys are wrapped and stacked under a tree sparsely decorated but perfectly original. Santa Claus will surely drop off an airdrop load for tomorrow’s shrieks. Ah, Christmas.
Last year, we made a pact that we wouldn’t give presents to each other. The Christmas diploma. I did not unwrap a gift on Christmas Day. That was fine. Really. Until this year, when I was told that policy had changed. They told me this yesterday. Any grocery store, gas station gift ideas? Or hit the Summit on 280 on Christmas Eve. It’s LA traffic out there. I’ve done it. It’s not that bad. Like a root canal isn’t that bad.
Time to craft some gifts from Alabama sticks and stones.
