Winter is coming. Wait, never mind. Winter already came and went. It was, like, sixty degrees today. But something ELSE is coming. No, not flesh-eating zombies, or dragons, or werewolves, or anything else from the howling mind of George R.R. Martin. The thing that I am saying to you that is coming when I said that a thing is coming is something far more…tiny-er. That’s right: gnomes. Gnomes are coming. How do I know gnomes are coming? Well, how do I know no gnomes are not coming? Hmmmm? Also, there are tiny socks and shirts and hats in the dresser in our guest bedroom, which, by the way, has somehow magically recently become the nicest room in our house. And how do you explain the gnome-sized beds and chairs, and even a foot-powered gnome carriage (which honestly seems a bit presumptuous on the gnome’s behalf), being delivered to our doorstep morning, gnoon, and gnight? Oops. I meant to type gnorning. I mean, if gnomes aren’t coming to our house, what is? A baby? I think Wife and I would know if a baby was coming! Besides, don’t babies take at least three full seasons of Game of Thrones to travel into our realm? Of course they do. That is, unless you watch those three full seasons…IN ONE WEEK. Uh oh.
The night is dark and full of diapers.