THE QUIET AFTER CHRISTMAS

The week after Christmas is always enjoyable and quiet at work. Last year, after a few slow hours, I would head into Chinatown for lunch. Which is something I will do again this year.

Off on the twentysixth (probably at the office nevertheless), working half-days Tuesday through Friday.
Leave at two P.M. C'town by 2:20. Fed by 3.

Thinking in terms of wonton noodle soup at least once.
It's perfect coldweather food.

Of course, what I would far rather be doing is curling up on a couch with a hot beverage and another person, underneath a nice warm comforter.
Got the comforter.
Zero on person.
And no couch.

Perhaps I should just bring my comforter or a blanket down to the office and lie in front of the reception area teevee watching cartoons all afternoon.
With a nice hot beverage.
It will be very quiet.
Nobody's working more than two half-days between Xmas and New Year.
If it weren't for building security, the smoke detectors, and the sprinkler system, I could probably also get away with smoking my pipe.

Smoking outdoors in frigid weather is not entirely enjoyable.


Really, I don't know how Santa does it - in illustrations he's always pictured with a pipe. Perhaps he has on two sets of long underwear. Lots of insulation.
Happy nudity does not appear to be part of Santa's world, and the concept of a hot tub or steam room at the North Pole, with a mob of those bandy-legged elves unwinding, is not a pretty mental sight.
Their locker room probably smells nasty.
I bet all of them have scratchy red long johns.
Probably itchy rashes on their bottoms because of it.
No nice silken skin, warm and velvety, but dry and chapped.
Whoever came up with the idea of a whole bunch of unshaven height-impaired middle-aged gentlemen all bunking together with a large elderly (and eccentric!) fat dude in the frozen wastelands had a hyper-active imagination and a very, VERY sick mind.
There's something frightfully English about the whole thing.
Unpleasantly reminiscent of the public schools.
Foodwise, it's probably horrible too.
Reindeer sausages every day.
No vegetables, or seafood.
British digestive issues.
And boiled penguins.


Certainly puts my lack of a couch and another person in perspective. At least I'm not forced to associate with a bunch of short ugly men all the time.
And I get to eat wonton noodle soup in Chinatown.



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