It is dark and has been precipitating for nine hours. The rain pelts the skylight and the winds gust causing the near visible wood to sway to and fro in a lamentation of its existence. The moisture envelopes, insulating from sound and sight, a welcome reprise from the usual.
Weather canceling the market, the serfs will have to make do with less for yet another Christmas while the haves roll over on their over stuffed mattresses and remain comfortable in their supercilious slumber.
As much relish as I savour for the magic of this season an end to the holiday gridlock and holiday surfeit can not come to an end soon enough so those that have not might get back to business as usual with at least a turn for an opportunity to earn to afford the nourishment they are missing so that they might attempt to earn a living for another week.