I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving! I did not.
‘T was the night before Thanksgiving and I woke up at 5:00 a.m. feeling terrible. I was so nauseated that I couldn’t go back to sleep. I turned on some Nick at Nite,* just as an episode of Family Matters was starting. For some reason I watched the whole show, rolling my eyes from beginning to end.
Anyway, I finally fell back to sleep and woke up a few hours later feeling like death. I refused to believe I could be sick on Thanksgiving, so decided I just needed to sleep a little more and then I would magically be cured. My family had arranged for us to eat at my parents’ house at 2:00, so I felt I had plenty of time to recover, get ready and cook green bean casserole. Instead, I did the following:
- Thought about eating breakfast, but nearly threw up at the very sight of food. This shouldn’t be taken lightly. I’m coming up on my 7-year “no throw-up” anniversary, which I’m very proud of.
- Slept until 1:00, contemplated whether or not I should even go, but then concluded that I would feel like a huge loser being at home by myself on Thanksgiving
- Started getting ready, resting every 10 minutes or so to keep from passing out
- Reconsidered ever wanting my own pet(s) or child(ren) after chasing Coco around the car about 5 times (sweating profusely in the process).** Although Coco enjoys a good car ride, she hates actually getting in the car.
Needless to say, I arrived late, but assured everyone they could start without me. When I walked in, I decided that we lived in a cruel, unfair world and that I was being punished for something. My family was enjoying a grand, traditional Thanksgiving feast that only happens once every 365 days and I couldn’t partake. Instead, I (barely) choked down six saltine crackers.
When judging our appearances, please keep in mind the lack of blood flowing to my face. Also, I invested almost no time at all into the hair and make-up process, knowing there was no hope of looking normal.
After realizing I would never be able to sleep with all the commotion in the house, I went downstairs to play with the other kids. This “playing” consisted of my whole family trying to talk over each other, figure out what someone else just said, watching the Dallas Cowboys/Miami Dolphins game and hearing my mom yelp happily when the Cowboys scored and yelp angrily when they didn’t.***
I eventually agreed to eat a piece of cherry pie. It was awesome.
And then the game-playing saga began, or should I say…the saga in which my family played games with my mind began?
All I’ve ever wanted from my family is for us to play a nice, quiet, civilized board game, in which each person takes their turn, plays by the rules and pays attention. Don’t get me wrong, there should be plenty of fun, laughter and the making of fond memories involved, but if everyone isn’t on the same page, you might as well not play at all. The game-playing incident from that night is a prime example of this. Here’s how it went down:
- Myself and several others are lured into playing Balderdash (great game).
- We’re told the time of play will be dependent on what time a particular person has to leave.
- We wait to hear a time of departure, but none is given.
- We finally have a few people gathered in one room, ready to play.
- We lose a player who feels the need to run down the street to his house to change his clothes before he can play.
- We wait, but eventually start without him.
- We ask if everyone knows how to play, to which everyone responds “yes.”
- A few minutes in, we realize half the room doesn’t know how to play.
- A card is selected and everyone is asked to write down their answers and pass them in to be read aloud.
- Several people jot down their answers and hand them in, while a select few stare at the TV.
- I stare at those people, as if to say “don’t act like you’re thinking of your answer, I know you’re not” and then say “pay attention!”
- My dad, who refuses to play games with us, begins to tell stories mid-game, which only serves to distract us (mostly me).
- Being on-edge from the lack of food, I start throwing out comments to stop this (examples: “Hush! Stop it! No talking!”). This does not work and more people join in the conversation.
- This goes on for a while. I become so irritable that I anticipate I may have a meltdown at any moment.
- We finally agree to end the game, which, in my opinion, had ended in complete disarray.
I took my pain-ridden body home, drank a helping of Nyquil (so gross) and was in bed by 9:00. I woke up mid-way through the night to eat a full sleeve of crackers, wishing I had accepted the plate of leftovers offered to me before leaving my parents’ house.
Oh, by the way, this is as far as I got with the green bean casserole that day:
*I hate that they spell it that way.
**I’ve since recanted this thought now that I feel better.
*** The rest of us just stare at her with fear in our eyes. This is a family tradition.