I’ve been burning the candle at three ends these past few weeks. Between working on my own business during the day, I also sandwich in preparing a presentation for a grad certificate course and a second job in the evenings. Oh wait, and this is all on top of another huge stinking mound of metaphorical personal dog poo that I’ve been wading through for the past couple of months.
So, as you can gather, I’ve been a little stressed. And I certainly wasn’t overly concerned about Thanksgiving. Until the day Thanksgiving actually came.
Thanksgiving is a holiday that I usually don’t have to do too much for. I don’t have to cook for a family. I don’t get excited over the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, I cringe at the thought of Black Friday/Small Business Saturday (WHO CAME UP WITH THIS NEW MARKETING PLOY??? DAMN YOU!)/Cyber Monday, and turkey just really isn’t my thing. The only tradition that I’ve maintained over the years was wearing a hideous fall-colored striped tunic sweater that is reminiscent of a turkey (I actually thought that sweater was cool when I bought it back in college.) I mis-placed the sweater though. And I’m pissed that this year, I broke the 13-year streak.
Mom and Dad are living la vida retired in Florida, and it didn’t make sense for them to come up to NJ since they are coming back to the Garden State in mid-December. Most of my extended family is scattered across the country. So this year, Thanksgiving was left to my little brother’s and my devices. And it was almost an epic FAIL.