Tonight, I thought I was going to write about why I don't like Thanksgiving. Turns out that the wine had other plans for me. These plans include fogging my brain, rendering me unable to construct a witty albeit brief narrative about my early turkey day experiences, making me want to instead lounge on the couch and get lost in DVR recordings of The Daily Show.
Brain is fuzzy. It has been busy keeping track of the usual details - you know, things like school schedules, extracurricular activities, and Christmas list items for the kids. It has also been busy keeping track of the details of our home improvement project and the dramas of late, including delivering the wrong color countertop for a bathroom, whether or not to replace water damaged hardwood floor boards, that the driveway will adequately drain during heavy rain, and other inconsequential details.
It also just realized two days ago that T's birthday is a month away, and I have done nothing more than think about where to hold it (anybody know of a fun place for a fifth birthday party that costs under $300?). No wait, I did think about trying to convince him that a half birthday will be much, much cooler than one close to his actual birthday.
What? What was that? Excuse me, please, I think I hear a bottle of Chardonnay calling my name.
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