Lovin' Home

Have you ever seen a ferret climb over a baby gate? Too cute.

"Rejoice with me, O family!" I yodeled on the stairs, in transit from Olympus to Ithaka. "My room is finally unpacked!"

A person who is not a college student, or has not been one fairly recently, cannot conceive of the infinite difficulties associated with unpacking into a bedroom from a dorm room. Hotpots and mugs have no place. Stacks of textbooks, no longer wanted, nevertheless will not fit into any decent space. The room is strewn with corporate casual garments which will not be worn, or will be worn sparingly, during the more relaxed festivities of the Christmas season. In short, college life doesn't jive very well with home life.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Daddy is reading Ivanhoe aloud. Laura is back from Hillsdale. Marjorie is calling me to come have dropped eggs on toast. My mahogany desk--that siren-- entices me to write Christmas notes. It is well-stocked with stationary, fountain pens, sealing wax... the tools of a lost art. Jessica will be through with finals very soon. Charity has returned from Mexico. Easton Press books are being wrapped for me to open and read and love. I find myself actually tempted--I confess it--to wonder whether twenty-one is really too grown-up, too dignified, to count presents. Why, only think...

But I can't think about that right now. The ferret just scampered over my toes, and a sink full of dishes calls, and I must cease from these transports of glee. I will not, however, stop marveling at grace. Do you have any idea how much fun it is to blow soap bubbles over your dishwashing...?

I find my life of slavery and servitude to be good, deeply good. But then, you know, it all depends on who your master is.