I am tired and want to be back at home. Mrs The Fyd has the day off work and so should I. There are books that need reading, especially those I received as presents yesterday. Guitars that need playing. Cats that need petting. Wife that needs canoodling.

Is my weariness due to meat clogging my guts? Our Christmas dinner tradition is to have steak, which we otherwise rarely eat. Rib-eye was good, but O the big gobs of fat and O the oleaginous slide down the throat and O the slick of grease on the forehead. And tonight I am to meet my father at Jake's Grill for dinner. More beef to ensue.