On facebook, I read a post that said in Iceland they celebrate Christmas Eve by reading books in bed and eating chocolate. https://www.readitforward.com/essay/article/jolabokaflod-meet-favorite-new-holiday-tradition/

I don’t know if the chocolate part is true, but I didn’t hesitate to fully embrace the meme and include that confection in our day. Chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Chicken enchildas with molé sauce at La Indita. M&Ms and peanut butter cups and Leonidas and Lindt for our evening. Sweet.

My idea. What better way for an introvert to spend Christmas eve? Everyone is happily reading, or on their computer. It’s quiet. I’m not cooking or catering to anyone in any way whatsoever. Yes, I put in the effort to plan for this evening, but it was easy.

I think the chocolate paved the way. Cocoa coated truffles smooth the path. Tongues kept engaging in small talk and banter, but quieted as they became chocolate coated. I felt a bit restless, but settled into the night. My book is Margaret Atwood’s Cat’s Eye. I’m reading slowly. Romeo slips and struggles on the tile, attempting to stand up as his front paws splay and his weak, diaper-encased hind end strains to rise, like a non-believer’s Christ. He needs a little help.

My commitment to writing has been lightly fulfilled. Back to my reading. I could get used to this.