Sorry to be so late this morning. After the cat got me up, I unexpectedly fell asleep on the couch--hard--and became entangled in a dream in which I was determined not to get off the couch, even though the person who seemed to be in charge of me (a woman from Harmony I barely know) kept reminding me I was a criminal so I might want to change my ways.

Anyway, what with having to foil this annoying caretaker and cling to my unrepentant criminality (I wonder what I did?), I was unable to wake up again, until the vestiges of my conscious mind suddenly remembered that today is our holiday trash day, and I'd better get up pronto if I want to get those stinky oyster shells out of the basement.

So that is the tale of why I am only now sitting down to drink coffee and write to you.

Our Christmas was lovely, lovely. Though the rain poured all day, the wind was less severe than forecast. And though Tom did have to stand on a ladder in the rain to mend the blown-off shed roof, he happily found a piece of plywood that was almost the perfect size to patch it. Tom bought Paul a Goodwill plate in the shape of a football. Paul gave Tom a new phone that, because of various Amazon shipping snafus, he hilariously acquired for free. I bought them both a guide to great canoe spots in southern Maine. Paul gave me a board game called Wingspan, with beautiful art and a complicated ornithological theme. Tom gave all three of us a gift certificate to our local fancy restaurant, to be cashed in later for a post-Covid celebration. I gave Tom a new bicycle seat because his old one feels like sitting on a Tupperware container.

We spent our day figuring out how to play my complicated board game, and cooking Hungarian cabbage rolls, and watching football, and Zoom visiting with family, and going for a long walk together in the rain. Really, it was a lovely day, barring the sadness of family distance--especially poor James alone in his Chicago apartment. But his busy little kitten mugged for the camera, and his tiny tree was exceedingly sweet, plus he just got a promotion at work. (Now he gets to be the person who claps the easel before the camera rolls, just like in those movies about making movies. As my sister pointed out, "Hey! You're Scooter on The Muppets!")

Today will be laundry and leftovers, and probably some more game playing, and if nothing in particular gets done, that's all right with me. Dragging trash to the curb may have been my dutiful high point. To celebrate Boxing Day, Ruckus will sit in boxes, and I may box up some cabbage rolls for the freezer, and Tom might box in the walls of his new shop space, and no one will watch boxing on TV. May your day be similarly varied.