The New Year is Ruined!

The dinner guests for New Year's Day leave, having been exhausted by the previous night's activity (or lack thereof), and Reconstruction begins. San Andreas is scowled at, and ordered turned off, and I to bed. A complaint is lodged, though not in Her throat. I woke up eight hours ago.
As we argue the customary argument, the garbage disposal finally decides to end it all.
And then the customary shouting breaks through the house, as soapy water fills the kitchen: "Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Fuck."

I can't help it. I smile. "The New Year is ruined!"