It’s 12:05 am. Officially it’s the day after Thanksgiving.
Time for the first turkey sandwich. (My favorite part of the feast!)
Apparently some people associate this day with shopping. I have no idea why.
You sir, are my hero.
I cooked and minced the neck meat and heart and gizzard yesterday while the turkey was roasting.
Today they’re going into the turkey salad sandwiches for lunch.
Om nom nom
shopping? screw that. I went fishing.
My son and my daughter (who both came home for the Holiday) went into town this afternoon about 6 PM. I gave them $5 and asked if they would pick me up some canned Cat food.
I did go to town today. (Tobacco run.) That’s the first time I’ve been inside a vehicle since Monday. I took this week as vacation, and to my mind, vacations and Holidays don’t involve going to overly crowded stores and getting run over by little old ladies with bad depth perception and a big shopping cart.
What Christmas shopping I didn’t do back in September or so is being done at the world famous dotcom-mart. I’m even possibly evading the Sales Tax, assuming that I don’t remember what I bought online when I file the State Tax return next Spring.
I try to be honest, but some times I forget. Us old folks have bad memories, don’t you know?
An on-going serialized novella. Lesbian squirrel harness the power of Swedish disco to erase common sense. When drone strikes, trans-species raptors, and a racist bear all fail to stop them, two brilliant college dropouts in a Subaru are mankind’s last hope. We’re probably doomed.
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