My Darling B got a tablet for late Christmas. I got a worm farm. I guess we know who came out ahead in that deal.

Actually, the worm farm is for both of us, inasmuch as it’s meant to dispose of all the kitchen scraps My Darling B leaves behind for me to clean up every night after dinner. The buckets just outside the back door are full, and the compost pile next to the garden is too goddamn far away to visit in the dead of winter; hence, the worm farm.

My toys haven’t arrived yet. When they do, I’ll easily spend as much time wrapped up in them as B is in hers. Maybe. I’ll be surprised if she goes go bed before midnight tonight.

[UPDATE: After three hours sitting in the recliner with her tablet, she’s still reading the instruction manual. There’s something seriously wrong about that girl.]