Thanksgiving Day. Appropriately, it’s cold, gray, and autimnal in San Francisco. All in all, I’d say I’m being treated to roughly the same weather I’d be experiencing if I were at home with Mom and Dad. The only difference is the lack of fallen leaves all over the streets and the grass. Of course, there’s not really any grass here to be covered anyway.
Perhaps the greatest thing about Thanksgiving Day in the city is the fact that I managed to park right at my front door last night. A minor miracle. And, were I to give up this prime space, I might actually get it again later today.
I’m not really going to sit here all day. Dan, Jamie, and I are going out in search of a charming Denny’s in another area code later this afternoon. Could be Sacramento or Santa Cruz or just Pacifica, depending on the traffic. And then we might go to K-mart.
Thanksgiving has never been a holiday I celebrate very festively. My one concession was baking a pan of brownies last night, which did impress several of my friends, oddly enough. I usually save most of my domesticity for Christmas. I’m not sure why, given my lack of any particularly active Christianity.
I’m actually going into my miserable part-time job for a hour or two tomorrow, having negotiated an hourly rate for this favor which rivals that of some doctors or lawyers, but still doesn’t quite compare with most auto mechanics.
But for now, I’m watching Bewitched. I’m thankful to be watching Bewitched.
