Dreamz

Yesterday, I had a dream that I dozed off on Smoke and MamaG’s couch for a little Thanksgiving Eve nap. I was in the very beginning stages of light sleep, peppered with the occasional, “You sonofabitch!” from the kitchen, as MamaG was preparing today’s turkey, which, apparently meant killing it a second time. Then, as I drift into a deeper sleep, the doorbell rang. It was Smoke Goldenstein. Ringing the doorbell at his own house, because he had basically cut off the tip of his thumb, and was bleeding everywhere. I then woke up and had to spring into action, gathering gauze and tape until MamaG was at a good stopping point with ol’ Tom so she could then tend to Smokey G. After everything was taken care of, I had to help MamaG put Tom into a bag to sit in the fridge to be ready for his big moment today. (That’s the annual Thanksgiving Eve tradition of me gagging into a turkey carcass while MamaG half-laughs-her-ass-off and half-yells-at-me-about-how-I’ll-have-to-make-a-turkey-someday but then I yell back about how I’ll pay someone to take out the innards and secretly pray that I never have to make a turkey.)

Happy Thanksgiving to you, my lovely readers. I’m thankful for you. All 48 of you. You, and Joe Biden memes. Oh, and that I’m not wearing a sling this year.

Cheers!

 

-Beverly

P.S.- That wasn’t a dream.