Diary #443

Last Saturday I drove out to Sunset for Christmas, and didn’t return until early Wednesday evening; normally I don’t like doing things on Boxing Day, but Grace and Chekhov had some things to do starting early yesterday so I didn’t want to get in their way.  It was a lovely, relaxing holiday; on Sunday evening we got blissfully high and just lay around talking and listening to Christmas music, then on Monday I cleaned up the house while the others went to town for last-minute supplies.  We had several guests for Christmas dinner, and one brought some lovely spiced rum infused with THC (which delivered quite a kick when added to eggnog and I will definitely be asking for more when this bottle is done).  My mood was so positive it wasn’t even disrupted by having to chase a certain naughty pony who found a weak spot in the fence and decided to make it her personal escape hatch (the spot was patched and I’ve asked Chekhov to do a more permanent repair this week).  Grace is also about to start on the floor repair, and after that the next project is building bookshelves so my collection can finally be properly displayed for the first time since we left New Orleans.  Sunset isn’t my dream home, and we still have a lot of work to do before I can really be proud of it.  But it’s all mine with nothing owed, and it’s a cozy place I can retreat to as often as I like.  And that’s worth more than all the silly dreams I’ve ever wasted tears over.