Urp

I had leftover Thanksgiving chili for a midnight snack. Now my stomach feels as though someone parked an SUV in it, and left the motor running. You can bet I won't make the same mistake with the Christmas hash! But the main problem with the Thanksgiving chili is that it makes me really really crave beer, and I've already downed my limit for the day. Besides, just before going to sleep is not the time to drink so temporary a beverage. Especially when, even in my sleep, I'll probably be hearing the sound of running water. The rain has settled down to a steady sprinkle, which is just enough to keep the drain pipe filled. It keeps the leaves still on the mulberry tree wet, too, so that they constantly drip their burden of dampness onto those leaves which are strewn across the lawn. Because those leaves are large, those which have landed upside down cup the collected water so that each new drop makes an audible splash.

(Excuse me a minute.)

(OK, I'm back.)

As I was saying, it's very damp tonight, and I have a powerful thirst. I'm thinking not only of beer, but of tasty mixed drinks, of sparkling ciders, and of real Champagne (not that cheap crap from the San Joaquin Valley.) Why, on this chilly night, I'm not thinking of spicy mulled wine and such, I don't know. I keep wanting something cold. Maybe I'm coming down with something. That can sometimes lead to unexpected cravings. I'm pretty sure I'm not pregnant. Anyway, I have none of these things to drink, so I might as well go to sleep and see if I can at least dream about them.

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Edit: Crap! Screwed up the community tag. Sorry.

Feeling Decemberish

The moon has made an appearance tonight, pale and slightly gibbous, veiled by thin clouds. No rain is falling, but the saturated ground emits the odor of damp. The still air condenses my breath in slow drifts of fog. A few houses now sport twinkling Christmas lights, but these do not compensate for the absence of most of the stars. The gloaming's dim light reveals pine branches drooping with the burden of moisture they yet carry from the recent rains, and the quiet is occasionally broken by the sound of its dripping. All the birds have fallen silent. At nightfall, December nights seem to stretch ahead like long tunnels with no light at their end.