A damn blog post

Greetings loved ones, allow me to take you all on a journey back to late November. A time when your hero, me, was struggling to finish watching Jane the Virgin on Netflix, a show that is, for the record, A1.

When it comes to plans the family has made, I'm almost always the last to know. This is because they either forget I'm home or don't tell me until a couple days before those plans go into action. It's Thanksgiving Thursday and I'm up and going about my day when I'm reminded that we're going all the way to Boca Raton for the holiday. As mom is packing up a boatload of stuffing that she made, as her only contribution to the meal, I had to pack a suitcase, so like usual, mostly underwear and some shirts. Joseph, who is not Adele, is singing Adele in his room. We all load up into the Prius, a car not intended to accommodate a family of five, and hit the open road. It's a three-hour trip and I slept for about an hour and a half. I woke up halfway through the trip and look into the back. Staring back at me is my dog and her solitary eye. I had not realized she was on the journey until that point, which makes me the world's worst detective. Honestly though, the only way I would have noticed Rosebud is because she is so gassy, but thankfully not on this car ride. Upon arriving in Boca, we were greeted by our cousins and their grandparents, which was only awkward when their grandpa went for a handshake and I went for a hug. I'm not good in those situations.

When dinner was ready, Joseph invited Rosebud to eat with us by saying, "hey schnoogle, do you want to come sit at the kids table, even though you're already 56 years old?" I don't understand my brother's relationship with my dog, but I have accepted it. Despite generally disliking Thanksgiving food, this year offered up some good options. Crowd favorites were premade mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes with a truck bed of brown sugar on top. As we were leaving, my parents remembered that they forgot the air mattress for me, but I told them "it didn't matter," and, "I'd be fine." I was not fine. I slept on a leather couch in the living room that was too short for me, and then everyone gathered around it to socialize in the morning, while I was still asleep in my boxer-briefs. Whatever. When my dad and I left early, I slept for a couple hours on the way back, and only woke up to apologize for snoring. Then I went back to snoring.