"Leave your livestock alone."

So. We are back to the ordinary number of monkeys around here, the last of our out-of-town visitors having gone last night after supper. I am startled to notice that it's only been a week. We fit in fun family time (and some fun friend time) with a wedge and a mallet, and as a result we are all kind of tired and quiet around here. I have a minor headache and a low-grade fever that mostly translates into not being able to keep warm. I'm in the mood to slop around the house in my new cargo socks* and crack nuts and drink tea. So I think I'm going to do that, actually. We have the nuts. We have the tea. We have things to read in the process.

I always get this way this time of year. I am in awe of those of you who can manage to make New Year's an actual holiday, because by the time New Year's Eve rolls around, I am done with holiday and shambling around wondering if braaaaains count as an idea for what to make for dinner.

Also I have no interest whatever in taking stock of this year. I have had plenty of time to think about this #$^#@* year while it is happening. Now I want to think about a better year. Ideally 2009, but really any better year will do; I'm willing to take nominations. So that line from Grosse Pointe Blank keeps popping into my head, and from there into the title field.

I am going to do a radio silence day tomorrow. No reading lj, no posting to lj, no e-mail out except in case of emergencies. I want the quiet in the metaphorical as well as the literal sense.

*They have little pointless** pockets on the sides. Hence, "cargo socks." They are blue and look sort of like the boots from the Cookie Monster Slayer being linked to here, there, and everywhere some months ago.

**timprov says that the pockets are for a Bowie knife. I do not have a Bowie knife that small, and anyway I don't think these socks' structural integrity is quite that high.