The Fibromyalgia Experiment

I was standing in the grocery store in hour 3 of the 4 hours it took me to buy just the food for Thanksgiving dinner. A man next to me (a little over middle aged) was loudly proclaiming how absurd it was that his family was spending thanksgiving at a restaurant. He said he was going to a brothers family across the state to celebrate in the “proper way” & give thanks to his God & honor his country. (Ok, this sounds like I was eavesdropping, but he was also standing in front of the whipped cream & wouldn’t budge, I didn’t have a choice in the matter, don’t come between me & one of the few times a year I indulge in refined sugar, it gets ugly). I was frustrated with this man & with this holiday. Thanksgiving is probably my least favorite day of the year, holiday or not. At least at Christmas I get presents & a pretty tree to look at for all my work. I feel like most men don’t realize all the work that goes into this dinner. My thanksgiving preparation included the 4 hour grocery shopping trip & cleaning the house. This was nowhere near the time it took for my mom to cook for two days straight. The guys show up, ate for half an hour & went to watch football, most of them leaving with us with the dishes & kids running around. I love my family, I love the nephews underfoot. The only reason I mention this is I don’t get why this man thought this holiday was about God or country. Today, I am grateful that I don’t live with that guy
 

 

Filed under: Gratitude Journal on November 23rd, 2006