(no subject)

And this is how it goes, friends. I get ready to spend the Thanksgiving weekend living by myself, and it goes like this. I get a vast number of young adult novels at the library. I burn my finger on our broken dryer and watch it blister. I wear my boots even though there's only two inches of SNOW outside, and it's not eve on the sidewalk. I mull over in my head how the fact that the only plans I have for this holiday thing are tentative cooking plans with my ex-boyfriend. I revel in the fact that it's winter, so I stopped shaving my legs ages ago, and they're beautiful. I buy croutons at the store to make stuffing the Miller way. I laugh when spell check doesn't know what to do with the word "croutons." I prep for Community discussions that don't happen. I make promises to call everyone I know over the weekend for catch-up phone dates. I marvel at the fact that I lost my favorite apron in the move three months ago, and I still can't locate it. I plan to wear my "Question Authority- Jesus Did" shirt on Friday, until I find out that I'm going in to work. I remind people that it really doesn't bother me to have the house to myself for the weekend, even over Thanksgiving. Really, I promise, it's all right and I don't mind it. I've got a million young adult novels to keep me company, and that's good with me.