Ahh… it’s the week of Thanksgiving. I think the week leading up to the holiday is almost as enjoyable as the holiday. People have already checked out mentally, and the mood around the cube farm is noticeably lighter. On the way to fill my coffee this morning I looked out the window at an ice blue world, and shivered.
On Saturday we received a fuzzy fleece blanket of snow. It even looks like Thanksgiving now. I can almost taste the turkey, and Pinot Noir, a reminder that I need to start my stomach stretching exercises to so I can gorge myself like a Roman.
This year we will be hosting Thanksgiving at 20 Prospect, so the next few days will be a flurry of cleaning and baking for Mrs. 20 Prospect, as I sit on my coccyx in my dark corporate lair, and day dream the hours away. Time to give thanks to my dark corporate overlords that have let me sponge off of the shareholders for another year, Lord knows how many more I can count on before the greasy gears of capitalism chew me up and spit me out too. I’ll take every damn penny I can get until that time. I figure if I’m going to sell my body and soul to Corporate America, I at least want to be a high priced prostitute. No back alley quickies for me. No sir, I’m going to make them give me dinner, and a movie first. I have some standards after all.