There are a few things that will haul me abruptly out of the deepest of sleeps. The upstairs bathroom is right over our bedroom. If someone has the gall to flush the toilet late at night it sounds as if Niagara Falls has paid a visit. That does not bother me so much. If that were all I could head back into dreamland within seconds. No, I lie there until I am certain the toilet tank has filled and is off. Every once in a while I sneak upstairs just to satisfy myself that the water has indeed turned off. When it is just the two of us around here only the most unusual night noises will wake me up. I suspect that the irrational demons that harbor within me take great pleasure in expecting the worst. I would like to think that I am no more or less demon driven than the average person. At times I wonder.
Were it not for Sandy stockings would never be full and presents would most likely be gift certificates. I do, however, muddle a bit over one thing. It has become a tradition for me to give everyone a book. Sandy takes care of the rest. I used to worry that few if any of the books I gave would be read. Not any more. It is not worth it. Is it not the gesture that counts? I look at my own book notes, check out some lists of notable books of the year that I track, and make my choices. Truth is I enjoy giving books. Even more, I love getting them. I have made it clear a book will suffice for any gift-giving occasion. The level of stress I experience during the book selection process pales before the many holiday exigencies that Sandy deals with.