Gushy Mushy

Man, what a bunch of selfish goodness, this staying around in our own house for the holidays, has been.  E. and I just look at each other in wonder, goofy grins on our faces.

We miss our families, don't get me wrong.

But to avoid airports, car trips, small talk, doggie daycare, packing and planning?  No national news, no NPR, no course planning, no fevered email correspondence.  To have an entire week of pajamas and pancakes, fudge and movies, snowstorms and presents, projects and peace?

Total bliss.  Bittersweet bliss.  The lazy, joyous stretching out of the days, not ruled by calendars and to-do lists but by whims and fancies, is almost too much to take.  Out of the corner of my eye, the new year is approaching, and all those stupid deadlines I committed myself to are waiting impatiently in folding chairs, angry drivers at the DMV wanting license.  Bastards.

But for today:  the blog.  Folding laundry.  Watching some snow fall.  Maybe a run, maybe not.  Eating, laying down, getting back up, puttering around, laying back down.  Answering one email and calling it good.  Watching the jay on the tree outside my window.  Reading.  TV.  Watching Nolie do magic tricks, listening to Addie rhapsodize on the finer points of Harry Potter.

Hard to imagine anything better.