Looks like this: (shamelessly filched from )

My homecoming arrival
was feted by unexpected elves
who rang me in with sweetness,
a lovely dinner inspired with
a chinese-mexican donut shop theme:
haricots vertes with sesame and shoyu
tofu enchiladas and butterscotch
pudding- all for only a dollar ninety-five!
In all actuality, it was homecooked-
extremely delicious, I might add.
Not only that, but the illustrious
Mister   appeared with
100 pearlescent helium balloons,
lit by a flashing scepter and,
to top it all off- he invited a mariachi band.
Well, it was really only one mariachi-
but what an outfit! Sequins and maribou!
And he played Brechtian ditties on his
mother-of-pearl accordion all evening.
Damn, but it’s good to be home.
I say that, and mean it truly-
as I haven’t left it for 48 hours for
any reason- the bloody flux has kept
me abed in paroxyms of bodily agony, alas.
We watched my street-pawned copy of
 Les Temps du Gitanes which I luckily
did not destroy with my high-powered
hematite magnets even though I left them
sitting on top of it all night long.
And now for edamame and tea.
And more of these treats:

I have become shamelessly addicted to
monkey flavoured pocky
and chimes peanut butter-ginger chews.
And that is because they are
astoundingly tasty.
Oh, and also bit o’ honeys
are filling my bowl, similarly tasty:

Though it is cold outside and in
I feel I have achieved the essence of gezellig.
Incidentally, this will be the first Christmas holiday
spent in my own dwelling and not in Texas
with my family. Or in some far-flung locale
like Hong Kong- (really, a graveyard in Macau.).
Honestly, I’m a bit anxious about it.
Are you an orphan too?
You should come down here and join ours-
It’s going to be very, very festive- I promise.
Seriously.
You’re invited-
An Orphan Christmas in New Orleans.
What could possibly be better?
(I could answer that, but I’ll restrain myself for now.)