On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love sent to me ten lords a’leaping…
This is too much. You have overbalanced my table to the other side. Or would have, but these eleven leaping lords refuse to sit, or even to stop their acrobatics. My home is like a circus tent, and I shudder to think of further gifts from you.
I do find one consolation in this madhouse (for such I fear my home is becoming). Trent has taken a hand to help me with my duties as hostess.