Call them the Days of Confusion.
When Christmas and New Year's both fall on Wednesday like this season, it muddles the mind into a gray mess.
I saw a thing on the Web the other day that said in part something like "No one really knows what day or time it is. Can we start drinking at 10 a.m.? Why not. Who cares."
I haven't reached that stage yet though the thought has occurred to me.
I thought I'd show you our Christmas dinner.
Which we had on the 26th, I think.
I got up and made yeast waffles and Judy fixed breakfast sausage Christmas morning and we stuffed ourselves to the degree that the thought of making dinner that day was just too much.
So I doctored up a frozen pizza and that was our meal.
After all, it's just the two of us.
But the next day we finally roused up enough to fix our yuletide feast.
Which is a bit of deflection on my part because actually it was reheating the leftovers from our Thanksgiving meal.
Clockwise, starting on the left side, roasted sweet potatoes and pineapple, mashed potatoes, roast pork and dressing; the latter three draped in pork gravy; and an addition, some sliced red beets, which I liked but Judy didn't find to her favor.
At any rate, it was a tasty dinner, accompanied by a bottle of Prosecco.
Dessert may have been homemade cookies but I can't remember for sure.
Meantime, our little cat Sweetie-Pie, took over one of her favorite spots, cuddled on my bed for a lengthy nap.
I dozed off for a bit either in my recliner with a book open on my lap or in front of the television set in the living room as Judy stayed awake and watched a movie.
Pretty boring, huh?
I think it's the meaning of a good but quiet life in retirement.