No room in the inn.

We won’t be forcing any pregnant women to bunk in the stable, but our inn has no vacancy for the next week. The reservation list looks like this:

The Husband, dry-docked for an indefinite period due to a nasty ENT thing he picked up from our daughter, while being home over Christmas.

The Boy, here for another week and a half before he makes a quick trip back to his college town for a singing gig (paid!).

Oldest, home until Sunday night. Loving having her with us for so long.

Boyfriend of Oldest, in town from Chicago through Friday.

The Boy’s buddy from high school, whose parents moved 45 minutes away when he went to college, and who is attending a New Year party with our son. Safer for him to bunk here tomorrow night than to drive that far in the wee smalls of New Year’s Eve.

The Boy’s girlfriend, who will join us the day after Oldest leaves.

The catering in this inn is a bit catch-as-catch-can, but I am able to keep the blankets and clean towels in good supply. Room service is non-existent, but check-in and check-out times are flexible. Not a bad deal, really, considering that the nightly rate is simply a smile, a hug, and a “thank you.”

And in truth, there’s always room in this inn.