So, do you think it's bad that this morning I was still washing wine glasses from last Thursday? Thanksgiving takes enormous time, I must say. Last night I finally got the dining room more or less back to what passes for normal in my house and then I was exhausted from that and my strenuous day of lying around in bed reading YA fantasy novels and eating leftovers, so I had to reheat yet more turkey and watch all five hours of The Hogfather. Which was not as awesome as I was expecting but at least I finished a small, simple black cap and started another knitting project and what the hell, the sets and costumes were cool and the acting was British, meaning that it was good and not every single person on the screen was a paradigm of youthful fitness and beauty, which wears on me in American TV.
It was raining when I woke up today and poor young M is home sick with a terrible cough and cold. You know your teenager is not faking sick when he actually wakes you up in the night coughing and then in the morning you find cough syrup and sudafed and nyquil scattered sadly around the bathroom. Rain and colds are, however awful, appropriate for late November and here we are, another month slipped away. M went back to Charleston on Sunday morning and given both our work schedules, it may be a couple of weeks before I see him again. Rain and colds and loneliness and washing up the last wine glasses and the turkey platter at 7:30 in the morning: yes, it is November.