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Nov. 24th, 2005 07:26 pmSo tired. Worked this morning after getting out of work at midnight last night, so my internal clock was right out of whack and I did not sleep at all. Last time the not-sleeping happened before a morning shift, I was of course stupid and cranky all day, so this morning I was smart - I didn't stay in bed forever and allow myself to get groggy. Instead, I got up a good hour and a half before work to shower and have coffee. When I went in, I was so chipper you'd think I'd had a good night's sleep.
I had a nice five hour shift (at time and a half, so I made about as much as I would during a normal eight hour shift), during which I was allowed to wear jeans, and it's really amazing how much this improved my mood from its usual work blah. I felt like an actual person.
After work, my mom picked me up and we went to my grandparents' for Thanksgiving. I was all excited to watch the game, since this is the first year I'm able to properly appreciate the Thanksgiving football tradition. The fact that the Lions, whom I have accidentally adopted, were playing made it even better.
So I experienced the male version of Thanksgiving, which is to say that instead of hovering in the kitchen, I sat with my grandfather and stepfather and uncle, drank beer, and watched the game. It was excellent. My grandfather attempted to further my football education, which didn't really work out because beer on an empty stomach effectively killed my ability to retain information (though I appreciated the effort), and my stepfather, who was rooting for the Falcons because Michael Vick is on his fantasy team, made fun of me because the Lions sucked so bad. We were both immensely entertained by the fact that their only touchdown came as a result of the ball bouncing off one of the Falcons and pretty much leaping right into the receiver's arms. Quality. So I enjoyed the game, even though it was total crap. My football knowledge is still extremely rudimentary, but I'm pretty sure that the opposing team having like three times the rushing yards your team has is kinda sad.
The food was excellent, of course, since talent for cooking runs in my family. I hadn't seen the aforementioned uncle for a while, so I was amazed to learn that he (who is a carpenter, rides a motorcycle, and other assorted manly man type things) had painstakingly put together a lattice top (you know, the layered crisscross thing) for an apple pie he'd made. And the crust was homemade. And it was one of the best apple pies I've ever tasted. Again: talent for cooking runs in my family. I guess it was foolish of me to assume that it had stayed with the women.
Then I almost fell asleep on the floor, then my sister and I did the dishes, then my grandmother gave me a bag of shoelaces because I discovered that I'd broken one of mine, and now I am home. And I am still tired, because I have been awake for the past thirty hours and worked thirteen of them. I think it might be bedtime soon.
I had a nice five hour shift (at time and a half, so I made about as much as I would during a normal eight hour shift), during which I was allowed to wear jeans, and it's really amazing how much this improved my mood from its usual work blah. I felt like an actual person.
After work, my mom picked me up and we went to my grandparents' for Thanksgiving. I was all excited to watch the game, since this is the first year I'm able to properly appreciate the Thanksgiving football tradition. The fact that the Lions, whom I have accidentally adopted, were playing made it even better.
So I experienced the male version of Thanksgiving, which is to say that instead of hovering in the kitchen, I sat with my grandfather and stepfather and uncle, drank beer, and watched the game. It was excellent. My grandfather attempted to further my football education, which didn't really work out because beer on an empty stomach effectively killed my ability to retain information (though I appreciated the effort), and my stepfather, who was rooting for the Falcons because Michael Vick is on his fantasy team, made fun of me because the Lions sucked so bad. We were both immensely entertained by the fact that their only touchdown came as a result of the ball bouncing off one of the Falcons and pretty much leaping right into the receiver's arms. Quality. So I enjoyed the game, even though it was total crap. My football knowledge is still extremely rudimentary, but I'm pretty sure that the opposing team having like three times the rushing yards your team has is kinda sad.
The food was excellent, of course, since talent for cooking runs in my family. I hadn't seen the aforementioned uncle for a while, so I was amazed to learn that he (who is a carpenter, rides a motorcycle, and other assorted manly man type things) had painstakingly put together a lattice top (you know, the layered crisscross thing) for an apple pie he'd made. And the crust was homemade. And it was one of the best apple pies I've ever tasted. Again: talent for cooking runs in my family. I guess it was foolish of me to assume that it had stayed with the women.
Then I almost fell asleep on the floor, then my sister and I did the dishes, then my grandmother gave me a bag of shoelaces because I discovered that I'd broken one of mine, and now I am home. And I am still tired, because I have been awake for the past thirty hours and worked thirteen of them. I think it might be bedtime soon.
