to all who live at 3108:

Who wants to lend a hand around here? You can even pick your chore. Your reward? You get your own bed back tonight.

-A very dry Christmas tree, fringed in drifts of pine needles, needs to be attended to. Drag the storage boxes out of the back shed and get crackin'. A sad but necessary chore.

-mounds of bedding and damp towels await their turn in our new front-loading washing machine. (At least the rows of hair gel, backpacks, and assorted unfamiliar footwear have disappeared from the bathrooms, hallways, and mudroom.)

-foil-covered leftovers dot the fridge. Some are way past human-consumption. Bonus: anything still good, you get first dibs on. This is not a job for the faint-of-heart.

-sugary shards of gingerbread house have made their way throughout the living room. Someone took a butter knife and busted the whole thing to smithereens in a frenzied snack-attack. Report to duty with the vacuum with the power head in hand, please.

-a cell phone was left behind that belongs to a person bound for Tennessee. It will probably ring unanswered for a few days. No chore here except to make sure it gets returned. (That would be Friend #7's business.)

-Go to the grocery store. Actually, I call that one because I get to be alone in the car.