I asked Donna this morning, “Is this the first Thanksgiving we’ve spent entirely alone, at home?” She thought for a moment and nodded. “I think so.”
Just as well. I seem to have caught a bug that has churned me up a bit the last couple of days. Not bad, just very uncomfortable, leaving me not in a very congenial mood.
But it got me thinking on the nature of the day and its uses.
We lounged, walked the dog, talked, read a little (I’m finishing up a stack I’ve been working on for a time and this morning completed William Least Heat Moon’s Blue Highways), talked some more, napped, ate a little. …