Actually, not bad this time, no major crisis on our end, although our valiant cat-sitter found herself locked out after the landlady came in to open the pipes (to keep ’em from freezing) and locked the wrong lock behind her. But all’s well that ends well, the cat is fat, dumb and happy, we are laden with giftage (including Fiestaware! Uranium poisoning ho!) and all is right with my small corner of the cosmos.
And damn, it’s warm down here. 70 predicted on New Years? It barely cracked freezing in western PA, and you cannot heat that monsterous barn of a church on an artist’s budget, which means…well, ’twas chilly indeed.
And other than filling MORE print orders, and unpacking, and doing a truly heroic amount of laundry, I think I’m just gonna laze about until the New Year.