"You were so stinking drunk, you couldn't buy brandy!"

So I made the gingerbread of Mordor. And it was duly admired and gobbled, and it sent out its mysterious power unto all those who came into contact with it. That being that you may be full to the brim already, even with much gingerbreadness, and yet, lo the gingerbread will still call to you and make you sup again of its deep brandy-laced goodness.

Lordy.

The other Thanksgivingy treats were also thus duly consumed - yea, overconsumed.

And then came I once more onto my bicyclette, and we did (he and me) (he being the bicyclette) make our way homewards unto our own hood, there to take a shower and sit dully upon the couch, thinking upon the many faux pas we may have committed while imbibing too much wine and wishing for things we cannot have.

Okay, the bike probably didn't make any gaffes whatsoever. But I, well, that is another story.

Enh. So what. Big deal.

The thing about holidays, you see, is that there's all this pressure to feel a prescribed way on a given day. Lovey-dovey on Valentine's Day, saintly on Xmas, spooky-playful on Halloween, gracious to our moms on mother's day, and thankful on thanksgiving.

And yet, I often don't feel that way on that day. I might feel that way on a completely other day - I'm sure on Arbor Day I felt perfectly thankful, but today I am nursing a big ol' grudge against fate, and I am sour. And then to have to hide that, channel it into some semblance of cheer laced with dark humor, well, it doesn't always work.

I didn't even know that was what I was doing until after the coffee took effect. Again, oh well. This is one of those days when I can't cobble together an articulate or entertaining post, and I think that whether there's some deeper meaning to all this whirlwind or not, I simply don't care to iron it out into neat little rows.

All I know is this: I'm very, very thirsty for some reason.