I find myself singing weird statement to the "Ode to Joy" instead of doing anything worthwhile this evening. I had a 4 text discussion about mail order brides with a man I've never met (no, I'm not planning on being a mail order bride and neither is he), but outside of that this evening has been cheerfully normal. Homemade cocoa was a bonus, but otherwise I watched Christmas specials on TV with my family and then tucked myself away to read. Few pleasures in life are as perfect as drinking tea while reading a book and listening to the right soundtrack. I'm working my way back through Hot Toy which is one of Jennifer Crusie's novellas. It's a good one. Guns, gin, plus some Han Solo references and a librarian who has a nephew she adores...minus the guns...it sounds a little like me. I could use a little more in the way of Han Solo references, but that's just me.
Plus I guess I'm wondering if I'm too strange to hold a real conversation with today, but that could just be the fact that at this point I am an hour past my bedtime. Today I convinced Forrest to type a whole paragraph just using the letters his left hand should type on the keyboard (we may have been a little bored today), finished reading a juvenile chapter books called The League of Unexceptional Children, and have been contemplating writing Tom Hiddleston a Christmas card even though he either will never get a chance to read it or won't read it until ages past Christmas.
What must that be like I wonder...having so much mail you can't keep up with it? Real mail not email. I'm not sure many problems could be more glorious.
I think tonight I may write a letter to Santa so I can put it in the mail tomorrow (our postal workers here in town already think I'm a loon, so it won't change anything).
Good night, my loves. May you find yourself cheered by your own Han Solo references.