The drama is indeed done. The day after Christmas. Back to work, and my living room is a minefield of presents, piles of boxes and books. I'm home alone at the moment. My daughter is at her boyfriend's house, and my wife and son are in a neighboring city, playing KeyForge, which, I am led to understand, is a card game of some sort.
The Christmas tree is blinking in the corner of the living room, and snow is in the forecast for the next couple days. A Winter Weather Advisory is in effect for about three to five inches of heavy white stuff by tomorrow night. For those of my disciples who attach a certain nostalgia to white Christmases, I'm sure this little storm sounds thrilling. To me, who has to rise at 4:30 a.m. tomorrow to drive to work, snow is an unwelcome prospect. It slows me down, and it costs me money for plowing.
I'm still recovering from the final flurry of present wrapping and church going of the last couple days. Plus, I didn't sleep well last night because of the little plumbing problem that I discovered. I called a plumber, and they arrived at my house at 10 a.m. today. According to my daughter, who was the only person home, they spent about 20 or so minutes taking up my toilet and cabling the sewer line. In the end, the plumber found a makeup face wipe that had been flushed was causing the problem. I am $150 poorer, but the drain in my bathtub is no longer burping every time we flush the toilet.
In one week's time, I will be in Florida at Walt Disney World, not worrying about snow or toilets or plowing or work. It's the first major vacation the I've taken in years. I think the last time I was on a plane was when I flew to California for a poetry workshop in Big Sur. My daughter was about four years old. To put that into perspective--my daughter is now a senior in high school.
I can't really get to the party yet for the trip. It's sort of like preparing for Christmas. I have so much that I need to accomplish before I step on that airplane. Syllabi to create. Citations for an essay to write. Announcements about upcoming poetry workshops. Clothes shopping and packing. I have a feeling that I'm going to be sleeping a lot on the way to Florida.
It seems like I've been rushing headlong at 70 miles per hour into Christmas and New Year's since the beginning of the month. Haven't had much of an opportunity to relax and enjoy myself. Tonight, though, in my silent house, with my functioning toilet and sewer line, I am finally slowing down. A little.
Saint Marty is thankful tonight for heavy eyelids, hot chocolate, and butterscotch schnapps.
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