Christmas Eve in a Polka-dot skirt stolen from the closet of your friend
It is 1:18 am. Christmas Day (but in my mind Christmas Eve). I am walking down a snow-covered sidewalk somewhere within the city limits of Philadelphia. Ten minutes ago I was resting on a pink wing chair in a cluttered living room watching a soap opera simply because it was British. Prior to this, I was watching the film, Hocus Pocus, but not by choice. I don't go for talking cats. I left the room when they started pyro poker, and I inhabited corners and stairwells. I ripped paper off of gifts, I stared at walls, and I thought, but not very much. Books and bed await me now. Sleep...hopefully, but doubtfully until nine, and then the opening of presents. What a silly holiday this is. Happy Christmas.