Who could that be at this hour?
It's midnight and that means it's past the cut-off.
Because Larry David wasn't kidding.
There is a cut off.
I'm in my pjs...
The comfy flannel ones with constellations on them.
Starry eyed sleepy stuff.
I'm drinking hot cocoa and Kahlua.
I have pugs licking my feet for gawdsake.
I'm watching Real Time with Bill Maher.
Because it's Friday.
And I'm a political junkie.
I'm all ensconced here.
Who knocks on the door
Completely and totally unannounced
At this hour?
Is this a joke?
Must I now leave this
Side sleeping pillowed
Splendiforously opulent lounge sanctuary
To place my saliva laden toes upon cold floor
To brave the uncertainty of an uninvited guest?
Do I then tear myself away from the glowing box
For a minute
Leaving Bill to his own devices among Condoleaaza Rice,
And Kathy Griffin?
Talk amongst yourselves...
I shall return.
Do not throw yourselves off the Fiscal Cliff while I'm gone.
I don't want to miss anything.
Robe thrown on
Door cracked open.
A familiar face.
Starry eyed and sleepy.
And then it's like Christmas!
The door opens...
And in walks...
Who doesn't miss a beat as she walks directly to the cork board
Placing a tack into the map hung there...right...there.
"Tonight's Jersey. Tomorrow's Virginia."
She says with certainty.
Which is really the only way she says anything.
"Rachel!" I exclaim.
"I've got Kahlua! And Bill Maher's on!"
"Salient talking points?"
"Yes! Most salient!"
Gawd, she's so smart! Girl crush!
"C'mon" she says.
"I'll make you a white russian that'll knock you on your ass. Salmon Rushdie and Kathy Griffin? Seriously?
How about the Dalai Lama and Madonna."
We laugh uproariously.
Because we 'get' each other.
"...Borderline...feels like I'm going to lose my mind..."
Madonna croons from the bedside iClock.
That wasn't real?
Wait a minute...
A single tack impales Central Jersey on the map.
A glass half full of Kahlua on the kitchen table.
And a pair of chunky black glasses left behind.
A Christmas miracle!