My choices this year, as the last few brown leaves float to the forest floor and November slides to an end: eat at someone’s house I’d met once, eight days ago; order a full plate from the local diner on Wednesday and feast solo; or pretend Thanksgiving isn’t happening.
I chose C.
I awoke at 5:30 and my self-discipline was at its zenith. I was full of vigor knowing I had a whole day completely to myself! Morning routines kept me from thinking about the fact that the day was a holiday: I still had to dress, walk the dogs, and cook breakfast.
By the time I’d gotten my usual morning into swing, it was time to visit a Thanksgiving Estate Sale. I live in a community with a lot of old people, and death combined with selling a lifetime’s worth of goods does not stop for a holiday.
Also, I’m buying a new house in two weeks and need to furnish it.
I came away with a gently used Keurig and a pair of $150 shoes for $4, plus a bathmat that was neither unraveling nor a hideous color. As I hauled my three trips worth of used home furnishings to the car, thunder boomed. The temperature, too, spiraled down. I drove the winding streets in a heavy rain.
Once home, I unloaded the few items I wasn’t leaving in the car. I had a snack, took the dogs out briefly, watched the rain…and grew…
