Why does life just sort of move faster and faster? Last week, I was driven almost insane by how much down-time I had but this week... I'm training at Target with only a day off for Thanksgiving. Tuesday, I raced over to the other side of the island after I got off from Target to do my other job, then fought my way back through post-rush hour, pre-construction traffic. I was exhausted, but I should have forced myself to make pie crusts anyway since Wednesday, I had less than four hours to come home, make a pie and then get over to church. ...I ended up using a store-bough pie because of that.
Other than that, my Thanksgiving was pretty good. I woke up at 8, wandered downstairs and then put myself to work in the kitchen, cleaning up, mixing the guts for some more pies, peeling potatoes, pulling out dishes. The end result, after a very good turkey dinner, I got to sit on the couch and reread Harry Potter while my dad and brother did the clean-up. And then and then my sister's sister came over with her boyfriend and my nephew Jaiden and... well, I had a great Thanksgiving evening chasing the little 15-month-old around :)
I read a lot of British literature; my shelves are stuffed with books that originated there and my kindle is full of them. I don't know if I can really blame that love for this habit, but I think I will: I notice I sometimes put unnecessary Us in words sometimes. I don't know where else I would have gotten that from...
I've been mostly keeping up, but as I'm half asleep when I'm watching TV, I don't really remember what I'm seeing. I have enough retention that I understand what people are talking about when the reference an event from that episode later, but thaaat's about it.
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