All is calm.

 

 Chestnuts? Roasted.

Open fire? Roaring.

Gifts? Wrapped.

Kids? Sleeping.

Stockings? Filled and hung with care.

Cookies left for Santa? Eaten by nobody who is 'fessing up.

Last gift that I scrambled around the house for, assumed was incorrectly wrapped, looked for under all sofas until I finally, randomly decided to check the desk drawer into which I was tossing everything in sight in my mad dash pre-party cleaning Saturday? Found, wrapped and under the tree.

Nyquil? Taken.

Christmas? Merry.

Bed? Yes, please.

(No, I did not really roast chestnuts. Come on, now.)