It’s a day about food. Because when you’re eating, you don’t have to talk to your relatives?
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Which means that the world, and my spouse, expect me to cook a turkey, or some part of a turkey. So, Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m going to be calling you tomorrow. Because I can’t remember how to cook a turkey. You’d think after the marathon Thanksgiving phone call of ‘05 I would remember, or at least have taken notes…but no. I think I was planning on never celebrating the freakin’ holiday ever again. At least not without fast food. At least there will be wine. And either three movies or a whole television season to watch. Because I wouldn’t want to accidentally see the Macy’s parade. That generally makes me angry. I think it’s the balloons and the fact that I’m pretty sure they’re just re-broadcasting footage from years ago…because, really…who would know? It’s a conspiracy. To sell Clifford books. Because lord knows they’re not actually good.
However, I will be viewing the dog show on after. So I can pine for the puppy that I cannot own while living in this rental house.
Clifford books got me off the streets. I owe them a huge debt.