It's A Lovely Seventeen Degrees Out

[desire_of_nymph]

If my mother had had her way, then I would be one of those nutters flooding through all of the stores everywhere in the goddamn country, trying to get the "best sales" or those silly little "doorbuster prizes" that are really little things of cereal or something that is NOT worth getting up at three in the morning just to be one of the first hundred, or thousand, people in the retarded line. I went two years, when I was nine and then again when I was ten. Then I learned my word, and exercised all of the ones that expressed exactly how insane it was to go on that little mission.

Now it is seven in the morning and I am awake. Why? Because they dragged me out of bed, that's why. So that I can accompany them to some craftshow in Escanaba. Grandpa is one sick and twisted individual, I'm telling you what. Only a sick person could get so much happiness out of waking other people up.
Grandpa: Wake up, Katie! *drags covers off*
Me: What? No, no! Give it back, go away, lemme alone.
Grandpa: Rise and shine!
Me: Noooo *whimpers*
Grandpa: You're burning daylight!
Me: *looks with squinty eyes* IT'S DARK OUTSIDE!! There is no way I'm burning daylight that doesn't exist.
Mom: Good morning, Katie-bug!!
Me: Go. Away.
Mom: Come on, aren't you coming to the craft show with us?
Me: What? No. No.
Mom: Yes you are, get out of bed. I'll buy you lunch.
Me: Can I sleep on the way there?
Grandma: Yes.
Me: Can I sleep anymore here?
Grandpa: No.
Me: ...fine.

There is a layer of snow on the ground. Did I say happy Thanksgiving to any of you? Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy the leftovers. And the shopping. Or the sleeping, all of you lucky bastards.