Either I was rewarded for all my hard work or Santa got the wrong house, because I made out like a genetically-spliced amalgam of Old Man Potter, Ebenezer Scrooge, and the Grinch yesterday. I’ll have to build a new shelf in my library and carve out hours for listening, for all the books and compact discs I scored. Ironically, I probably wound up knocking years off my life from all the stress and lack of sleep leading up to so-called Silent Night. Lights out this morning at 1:15 a.m.
No snow on St. Stephen’s Day. All the same, I hope to cozy in with my hoard, once I get back from my wildlife food deliveries and perhaps plan what I’m going to play for this week’s radio shows, the last of 2023.
Happy holidays, everyone. Many of us, I’m sure, get better than we deserve. The least we can do is try and pay it forward – even as we introverts pine blearily for January, when we can slither back to our comfort zones for a much-desired long winter’s nap.
