Gobble gobble

You know what I love most about Thanksgiving? I think it's the two days off work. A four day weekend! Why can't they all be this long and wonderful? Sure, sure, there's all the turkey and starches and friends and pies and family and tryptophan-induced napping, and those are all swell too. But many of my Thanksgivings over the past decade have not included such delights because of distance, expense, or what-have-you (though I have spent many a lovely holiday hiking through redwood groves with a turkey cranberry sandwich). Yet I always get the time off, and nothing beats having two days to lounge around doing jack and still have a full weekend to get all the weekendy tasks accomplished...like my laundry, cleaning the bathroom, sorting the junkmail, reorganizing my closet, watering the plants, dishes, bill paying, shopping... Shit, I have a lot to do still - where did all the time go! With the roommates away, maybe I've reveled too much in my unaccustomed leisure.

Speaking of which, I find I get the urge to bake when the roommates are gone. How weird is that? Ordinarily I hardly ever use the kitchen, yet in the past two days I've baked banana bread, orange-cranberry bread, snickerdoodle cookies, and a poundcake. All from scratch. I'm not really sure what to do with it all, short of dying from butter intake, yet honestly the only reason I stopped there is because I have no mixer and my arm is sore from all the stirring.

Anyway, it's a great holiday. On just this day, all you friendless, you without family, you poverty stricken, or living in the third world, you stuck working retail, you can bite us in our oversized asses. Here's to our glorious national day of guiltless gluttonous overindulgence. I have stuffed my face because I can, dammit, and for that, I'm thankful.