Thanksgiving

This is the week when turkeys all over America must be asking themselves, “Why me? Why wasn’t I born an armadillo? Millions of armadillos are not eaten every November.”

It’s Thanksgiving Day. Again. I awaken in utter darkness and lie still for a long while until I’m sure I won’t be getting back to sleep. Then I look at the digital clock beside my bed and see it’s 4 AM. I went to bed late, so waking at 4 AM is not good. The hours pass until at last darkness gives way to a predawn glow. I get out of bed and move to the living room sofa to lie down. I’m thinking maybe I can fall asleep for an hour or two, but there is no more sleep for me. This is so typical.

I get up from the sofa and sit down at the computer. I see a friend is online and we chat for a while. Then I fix breakfast. After breakfast, I sit at the computer again and tinker with my website design. Not this website … my personal website. Around 10 AM my neighbor Sally knocks on my door. She wants her ice cream, which for mysterious reasons is in my freezer. Then she leaves to go to her mother’s house.

At 11 AM I drive to Walmart. I thought most people would be traveling or preparing to eat at this time of day. But Walmart is surprisingly busy, considering the day. (But not as busy as it will be tomorrow.) I pick up some food items, including a frozen pizza. Pizza will be my lunch. No turkeys will die to feed me. A pepperoni had to die, but it was a tiny one, and probably deformed anyway.

Back home I nuke the pizza in the microwave oven and enhance it with a sprinkle of red pepper flakes. It tastes hot, salty, and greasy, my three favorite flavors. But according to a recent decision by Congress, I’ve just eaten two servings of veggies. I decide members of Congress must know what they’re talking about; after all, they’re in Congress and I’m not. So I pat myself on the back for choosing to eat a healthy meal. For a moment, I wonder how many members of Congress will follow their own Congressional thinking and have pizza with their turkey.

Around half past noon, my neighbor Kim phones me. She’s on a rant involving her mother and corn pudding. Talking is not required on my part. After the corn pudding rant, she switches topics and tells me her ex is trying to gaslight her, and a new rant begins. I listen to her for a long while, throwing in the occasional, socially mandated, “uh-huh”, “uh-oh”, and “huh!” to demonstrate that I’m still awake. After an hour, I remember that I’m neither married to her nor dating her, and I interrupt her monologue with, “We’ve been on the phone an hour, and I have things to do.” It’s the conversational equivalent of going from sixty miles an hour to a full stop in half a second, and it gets the job done. I’m off the phone.

I would describe the rest of my Thanksgiving day, but I can see all of you out there, eyelids getting heavy, heads nodding, a little drool trickling down chins. And I’ve heard you muttering the occasional “uh-huh”, “uh-oh”, and “huh!” Well, okay then, I’m outta here. I have things to do.