The kids have been recovering from, then re-infecting themselves with a strange strain of this year’s flu bug. It creeps up without warning. None of them seem physically able to make it to a toilet before hitting any and all carpeting within reason (say, 50m) and just when they begin to eat normally, act normally, play normally, dress normally and bathe normally, instead of breathing a sigh of relief, one should prepare themselves for an even bigger relapse.

Enter, the basement.

My computer died on the dining room table last week minutes after my post about Mall Santas—coincidence? Consequently, I have been sneaking down to the basement to check my emails, “Hi again Mom,” and to write my daily post.

Despite the turmoil that is life on the second floor, the basement is surprisingly quiet. There’s a roaring fire with flames enveloping a double order of river rock that for future reference, without the double order, the flames would simply appear to be burning three, strangely placed, lonely, burnt rocks that have no business in a home or at the base of a fire but six….six just makes sense.

There’s a t.v. should I find myself craving a little less Zach & Cody and a little more Anderson Cooper.

There’s running water, a fridge and access to the outside world where surely if I set my mind to it, I could find six more of the finest rocks our fireplace could handle.

It has occurred to me I’m becoming a hermit, a recluse, minutes from going completely insane but the minute the kids convinced me putting Rapunzel on top of the tree in place of last year’s star was a good idea, I knew I needed a few minutes of basement time all to myself.

Sure she can let down her hair…..just as long as it doesn’t make it all the way down the stairs.