Your Smell Is Incense Burning
It is my firm belief that it is a sin (if there are such things as sin) to be woken up at eight in the morning when it is twenty-four degrees Fahrenheit outside and maybe fifty inside. Especially on Thanksgiving. It took me seven minutes to get ready - nine once you figure in brushing my teeth because people need to let me in the bathroom - I could have slept for another hour and been warm when I crawled out of my blanket nest. Not that Louie, Pippin, Maggie, Hopper or Lilliana were interested in me staying in my bed. All they cared about was being able to see my eyes so that they knew I was awake, and it was officially okay to attack me en masse.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope that y'all have good ones that involve plenty of rest, football, turkey, pecan pie (or pumpkin, if you like it), and family members being hilarious. I know mine should be. Me, mom and Kid are a riot all on our own, now add in Keith and everyone else, including Danny. Makes for a good equation.
As does the bits of snow outside and the promise of more. Now where are my goddamn grandparents? I was right - nine has come and gone and they're still not here. Mark a point up for me.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope that y'all have good ones that involve plenty of rest, football, turkey, pecan pie (or pumpkin, if you like it), and family members being hilarious. I know mine should be. Me, mom and Kid are a riot all on our own, now add in Keith and everyone else, including Danny. Makes for a good equation.
As does the bits of snow outside and the promise of more. Now where are my goddamn grandparents? I was right - nine has come and gone and they're still not here. Mark a point up for me.