Thanksgiving

I don’t care that much about food on Thanksgiving. Yes, I said it. I don’t wake up on Thanksgiving and rush toward the kitchen in hope that the turkey and pie are done. Don’t get me wrong: I love those things, and by all measures I eat way too much of them. Seriously, an empty pie tin is sitting right next to me as I type this. But considering the way I eat on a regular basis, I don’t think my body distinguishes much between Thanksgiving Day and any other plain old day. I’m not proud of it, but if I’m being honest here, I binge while I’m sleeping. So food’s only about 10% of the appeal for me.

The real appeal of Thanksgiving is that it’s on the cusp of winter. It’s the threshold to the Christmas season. And I know once I’ve hit that benchmark, it’s only so much longer until winter break, which, beside summer break, is pretty much the only time during the school year when I have a soul. I hate everything until about the second week of December. When that ends, I’m reincarnated as a different human being. A human being with more than one facial expression. It’s incredible. I’d tell you to come witness the staggering metamorphosis so you could see I have the capability of expressing joy, but really I don’t like anyone being within a ten foot radius of me when I actually have free time.

So that’s what I like about Thanksgiving. I know that wasn’t really about the holiday itself, per se, but if I told you that my family just eats and sleeps that wouldn’t have satisfied the 150-word requirement.