Oh, the silent majesty of a winter’s morn; the clean, cool chill of the holiday air; and an asshole in his bathrobe, emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer.
The smiles of little faces. The large boxes marked “assembly required.” The one-eyed visiting dog. The destruction and clean-up unleashed by unbridled avarice. One bourbon, one scotch, one beer.
The day is almost upon us. The presents are wrapped, except for the ones I haven’t yet bought. The nanny, gift wrapper supreme, is on vacation, so gift bags. Another trip to the liquor store, make sure the electric drill battery is fully charged, check for spare bulbs and ensure the AA supply is bulging.
Soon those little faces will pop awake, smiling and eager, well before the sun rises. Cousin Eddie will not be present. The one-eyed dog is no leg hound or garbage tipper. It shall be a silent and majestic holiday morn made glorious by the fact that I’m outsourcing assembly of the large present.