It's a quiet morning---just the hum of the heat and the crackle-drop of the ice machine, as I’m sitting here in the dim. The round golden lampshade beside me and the strings of little Christmas lights stuck on strips of ribbon like glowing Candy-Dots are the only illumination in the room.
What a contrast to previous day-after-Christmas mornings, when the house was full of chillun and sunshine (indeed it IS a glorious sunny day outside, with the living room and kitchen and sitting room upstairs filled with sun, to the delight of Pete the Canary). And every time I’ve been up, Fuzzypup has moved on with the traveling rays across the carpet, sunning his little shaggy body. We’re usually all in a merry chaos, with scattered presents all in stages of use and noise, with the scents of bacon and coffee and French Toast in the house, and today, only the coffee. And me.
Chris stuck his head back into our room when he left, “You sleep long as you can, and have an easy day. We’ll order Chinese for supper.”
And so I did, and have tried out the new pack of Hills Bros. K-cups (they come in little saggy-bottom packs, like a tee-ninecy upside-down mob-cap, with a flat round top of rigid plastic, and a silky little bag of coffee hanging below. They remind me of a Lilliput version of those old-fashioned ashtrays which stayed put, even on a dashboard, because their heavy leathery bases were full of bbs. Delicious. I’ve had two BIG cups.
I hope your holiday was a wonderful, joyous celebration.