Welcome to my personal hell. Here's what's gone wrong so far on this rainy, drizzly Thanksgiving Eve:
-My sister's wallet has disappeared. I choose to believe it was stolen, and thereby absolve her of any personal responsibility. It contained a significant amount of cash. Much more than she usually has, naturally. Whose wallet disappears when it's empty?
-The cash would sure come in handy when we take the dog to the vet this afternoon. What, you ask? Why would you make a vet appointment on the other side of town on a day when you have so much to do and holiday traffic will be so bad? Why, because my dog has stopped using his right front leg, of course. It's completely pathetic, it makes my ovaries cramp in a way that only a childless woman with an unnatural attachment to her dog could grasp, and it's going to cost me way too much fucking money to address.
-My mom told us last night about a new wrinkle in her business' lawsuit that is giving me an ulcer as we speak. I can't talk about it here, but let's just say I briefly contemplated scheduling an extra appointment with my shrink for today. Good thing I didn't, since I'll be spending all of my time at the veterinarian's.
-Yet again, no one has offered me a job.
Now, if by chance you are coming to my house for Thanksgiving, don't worry! We are going to be festive, and if I start complaining it will be in an entertaining, Seinfeldian way. Besides, we have tons of wine. Sweet, lovely, befuddling wine. I cannot wait to get befuddled. I may start on Thursday morning and keep it up through Sunday. It's not like I'll have to keep my wits about me to walk the dog.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.