I will yell Happy New Year in the morning?

There are Trader Joe’s “Mini Morning Buns” in the oven. I suppose the morning is as mini as any. It’s 8:40, and I’ve barely done more than get the buns going and start the elliptical for Jeff. What it means to start the elliptical is 1)Turn on the TV to CNBC. Harder than you think. One remote to turn it on, and adjust volume, another to aim at the cable box for channel selection. And both subject to disappearing in couch crevices. Then I push the green button on the elliptical console, twice, and invite him to climb aboard.

Trader Joe’s mini morning buns come in an awkward packaging size for the current crew-in-residence. 12 minis/box. One box means I should only eat 2. Two boxes means I can eat 4 or 5, but there will be leftovers to dry out. Easy call: 2 boxes.

It’s 10:55 am, and my left shoulder is holding me accountable for having slept on it last night. Darned if there’s a position that works, without repercussions, anymore. I may look into stringing a hammock across the room this year. Seriously. Could work. Meanwhile, Jeff is about to be scooped up by his sister for a kindly social call to an old friend of his late mother, and I’ll visit the grocery for some last minute peanut butter cake ingredients, since I’m supplying New Year’s day dessert.

1:00. Eating leftover Indian food, in our usual scavengy way. Happily, there’s enough rice to dilute the chickpeas channa masala, which smart a bit straight. Then Jeff and Helen return, mission accomplished. Jeff is wearing a brown leather shoe on his left foot, and a mahogany suede shoe on his right. I point the discrepancy out, but he is baffled, so I take his suede shoe upstairs and swap it for the other brown one. I hand it to Jeff, and he reaches to remove the other brown shoe from his left foot. “No,” I say, “put on this shoe.” He remains baffled. “Where?” “Put this shoe on this foot.” He struggles with the laces. Olivia catches my reflexive movement and verbally holds me off. “He can do it he can do it!” she chides. He more or less does.

3:30. I am presently vegging on the living room couch. My macbook battery indicator suggests a re-juicing. At the kitchen table, four of us take turns plugging into to one AC adaptor, like the mermaids at Weeki Wachee sucking on the air hose so they can go about their underwater business. It is my AC adaptor. I am, consequently, only wired about 25% of the time when girls are home.

Girls are scuttling about, embroiled in the processes of getting ready to go out for the evening and/or head back to St. Mary’s County. Nail polish, heels no reasonable person could walk in, and the guinea pig...waiting patiently on the kitchen table while its ride takes a shower. Hazel-cat is intrigued, rolling around on top of the cage. The message is clear: I could really play with this animal if you’d let me. I busy myself with nonsense--Tiki Towers on the iPhone, Facebook stalking, anything. I’ve got chickenless nuggets in the oven for Gabe and Jeff, but I can’t relax and reheat more leftover daal for myself until the girls have launched themselves. I inform Gabe that he will be required to vacate the TV with dvd player in a while, as I plan to watch the film (500) Days of Summer which Becca has kindly left behind.

15 minutes ‘til movie time. It’s 6:40. Some combo of my glass of sauvignon blanc and general flaggedness at having launched the 3rd and final girl out the door has stripped me of any remnant of patience. I have a nonsensical conversation with Jeff about whether it’s ok for him to sit in his chair (it is) while the cat is sitting in the other one. (yes, still ok.) But I sound cranky. I wonder if I could have an email penpal, like Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail, but agree never to meet.

Halfway into the movie Gabe gets a call. He’s going to Matt’s house for the night. Goodbye Gabe. The movie was ok. Sort of sad, but the protagonist got things straightened out in the end, maybe. Me, I’m still stuck in the part where he declares it all b.s. and quits his greeting card job.

Jeff tried to go to bed. It didn’t take. It is 9:10pm. Lately, in the morning, he lies in bed until I finally stop hitting the snooze button, then pops up exactly as I do. And bedtime is increasingly unlikely until I have also succumbed. I was warned about shadowing. I know what behaviors are likely to be coming. But, if you’ve ever played Sims, and bought the sad clown painting...you know what comes next. Yes, it’s like that, but without the sobbing. The clown begins to follow you around. Something like a heavy shadow that never quite gives you privacy, but never quite intrudes either.

So, we’re having tea. Tea is the answer, if there’s no other. This is called “Organic Easy Now,” and purports to ease tension and stress. ‘Tis a pleasant brew. Well...I’ve just hatched a plan: Tonight, just after I post this, I will start a new Pages document. Over the course of the year, I will fill it with good thoughts. Every time a little lost wandering good feeling wafts by, I will place its imprint upon that page. The little lost wandering good feeling won’t mind. They like to do things like that.

It’s 9:30. I won’t make it ‘til midnight. I rarely do. ; )