flick it

Good morning, loves. Welcome to another Saturday. The skies are overcast, but it’s still early. Shit can change. Chaucer is rubbing his face on my laptop screen because I won’t let him in my lap. He has an entire couch cushion available to him, and he insists on squishing himself between us. He does the same in bed. We have a king-sized mattress, with an obscene amount of sleeping surface, and yet Chaucer has to sleep on my legs.

Shawshank‘s boss threw a Christmas party last night. There had been some back and forth about whether she’d postpone it again due to the weather. Eventually, she declared it was happening. One of the other couples invited lives in TinyTown as well, so we followed them up to the boss’s cabin. We slowed down once to let some deer cross. The main roads weren’t that bad, but they definitely weren’t good. One big intersection was in bad shape, and we both made a point to remember it on the return trip. I don’t handle bad roads on even my best days, so I kept my eyes closed and trusted the process.

The boss gave us a tour of the cabin and stuffed us full of appetizers; Shawshank fixed me a couple of rum and Cokes. We had a good (possibly Stouffers’s frozen) lasagna dinner and exchanged gifts and all that happy crappy. We ended up staying a couple of hours later than anticipated, probably because it wasn’t just us there.

I kept the GPS running for the ride home. Even though we were heading back home and only needed to use it to get off the reservation, it’s pitch black out there and you can’t really rely on landmarks. The bad intersection was being cleared by the time we went through on the return trip. I spotted two moose on the way back.

Shawshank has work this morning. We’re going out after work, driving out to one of the bigger towns about 90 minutes away. Today’s weather looks like it should cooperate, and hopefully some of the shit on the roads will have blown off overnight. I’m in charge of figuring out dinner.