We’re at yet another Monday, and it’s a gray one. I haven’t seen the weather for the day, so I won’t speculate on how bad it will be for the bulk of the day. Today probably won’t be a laundry day, for certain. There’s plenty of time to wash clothes this week.
I’m in the final stretch before my trip north, single-digit countdown and everything. Until two days ago, I didn’t realize that Thanksgiving was this week. I have no concept of time anymore. I need to buy a hat; I didn’t save any hats. I may have saved a scarf. Some legwarmers will arrive today, and I imagine I’ll be quite comfortable on the flight between those and a sweater.
Thankfully, I don’t need to make an entire holiday dinner. I’ll be in charge of sweet potatoes again, because Brian’s father likes them. Brian’s mother isn’t in direct competition with me for Brian’s attention like she is with Mom, so I’m allowed to bring over a dish. His mother absolutely hates when his father likes something that my mom cooks better than her own food. It’s all sorts of fucked up.
To be fair, however, her cooking isn’t anything special. It qualifies as edible, but so does Mal‘s cat food.
Today’s plans aren’t anything interesting. I’ll work on the painting of the Compound. I was able to get a better idea of the colors for the shutters. While I haven’t actually seen it closed, Mom assures me the garage door is white. Brian’s mother wants us to go to Walmart with her to print out pictures of their road trip last month. She’s pestering me to help print them, and I had to explain that I haven’t printed a photo in 20 years because I don’t give a shit about photo albums.
