Days till Hull: 4
Days till Thanksgiving: 6
Days till Thanksgiving: 6
Today is a wondrous day indeed, because it is Friday, which means that not only is the weekend nearly upon us (and pay day), but in 4 days I will be jetting off to fabulous Hull so that I may spend the following 3 days systematically devouring several large turkeys. Coincidentally, this morning when I logged into my gmail, this was the headline on my news bar:
Turkeys are social, playful birds who enjoy the company of others.
Know what else is awesome about turkeys? How delicious they are. They taste like moist, succulent strips of farm fresh baby, and everyone knows you can't get fresher than babies. In true dysfunctional family style, Thursday we will celebrate the gluttonous feast with my mother, Friday we will make our way into Boston to celebrate "Jewish" style (i.e. go out to eat) with my father (never minding he's not the Jewish parent), and on Saturday we will be throwing caution to the wind and braving a trek down to the windy wasteland that is Cape Cod in the winter for our final celebratory dinner with my aunt and uncle. All-in-all, I expect to put about 50 pounds on, and I'm already planning on how to let the waists out of all my pants.
You're planning to do what??Thanksgiving aside, I am already ready to pack up my things and head right back to my apartment; my bed is beckoning to me, even from here. It was one of those mornings, the kind where you wake up and instantly start sobbing, because your bed is so very warm, and outside is so very cold, and the last goddamn thing you want to do is get up, shower, get dressed (get dressed in matching garments, no less), hike the 8 blocks to work, and then attempt maintaining your sanity and lucidity for the duration of the day. Hard stuff.
I woke up late, as I usually do at the end of the week, even when resistance seems futile, took too long eating my morning oatmeal (and burnt half of it to the bowl, which was fun to clean off), couldn't get my hair to cooperate, and made poor decisions with clothing until I realized I had -10 minutes until I had to leave and I better put some damn pants on because it's too cold to go outside pantless, and I don't particularly feel like losing my job.
I also decided it would be a brilliant idea to wear my heels to the office, rather than wearing something tasteful and comfortable like my gigantic UGGs or my pink Crocs, because I thought they would look classy with my gray skirt and new jacket (which they did), and that they'd make my legs look fabulous (which of course they did), and that my poor broken toe wouldn't hurt all that badly (which... yes, yes it did.)
After limping for 2 blocks I decided to be a pussy and take the Metro, which meant more waiting, then a mad dash to get on, and then nearly having a heart attack when the idiot conductor announced we were going straight from McPherson Square to GW/Foggy Bottom, and I thought that somehow we'd completely bypass Farragut West and I would be doomed to ride the Metro aimlessly back and forth forever, like a ghost with no direction and unfinished business.
To cheer myself up, I indulged in a brownie and some hot chocolate, so even though my skirt feels kinda tight, hey, at least I had that delicious snack to further encourage me to associate unhealthy foods with feelings of emotional happiness.
Man, I can't wait for Thanksgiving.
I woke up late, as I usually do at the end of the week, even when resistance seems futile, took too long eating my morning oatmeal (and burnt half of it to the bowl, which was fun to clean off), couldn't get my hair to cooperate, and made poor decisions with clothing until I realized I had -10 minutes until I had to leave and I better put some damn pants on because it's too cold to go outside pantless, and I don't particularly feel like losing my job.
I also decided it would be a brilliant idea to wear my heels to the office, rather than wearing something tasteful and comfortable like my gigantic UGGs or my pink Crocs, because I thought they would look classy with my gray skirt and new jacket (which they did), and that they'd make my legs look fabulous (which of course they did), and that my poor broken toe wouldn't hurt all that badly (which... yes, yes it did.)
After limping for 2 blocks I decided to be a pussy and take the Metro, which meant more waiting, then a mad dash to get on, and then nearly having a heart attack when the idiot conductor announced we were going straight from McPherson Square to GW/Foggy Bottom, and I thought that somehow we'd completely bypass Farragut West and I would be doomed to ride the Metro aimlessly back and forth forever, like a ghost with no direction and unfinished business.
To cheer myself up, I indulged in a brownie and some hot chocolate, so even though my skirt feels kinda tight, hey, at least I had that delicious snack to further encourage me to associate unhealthy foods with feelings of emotional happiness.
Man, I can't wait for Thanksgiving.
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