|French onion soup--well done!|
I'm not a Black Friday shopper. A good bargain gives me a thrill, as you know, but I have no interest in getting up in the middle of the night to fight people for a Magic Bullet. Scoring a pair of lined, wool dress pants marked down from $200 to $38 dollars (which, for those of you not good with math, is less than twenty percent of their original price) at L&T on a random afternoon, when I'm the only one there, is much more likely to bring on a ladywood moment (thanks, Jen Lancaster, for that word) than waiting in line for a Snuggie. I'd rather still be snuggled up my pajamas at noon on Black Friday, which I usually am at Dawn and Henry's, and was, in fact, two days ago.
The day after Thanksgiving, I like to relax. It's a day off from school that is not a holiday, and I like to do nothing that requires showering or strangers. First I help clean up the aftermath of our big family gathering--read: the things that didn't get put away after the cranberry vodka came out--(Lindsay and I were cleaning machines this year!) and then I make brunch for those of us who camped out overnight. After a quick, second clean up it's time to hang out. And Dawn and I did. Like we meant it. Long enough to get out leftover appetizers from the day before.
When I finally felt motivated to bust a move, it was NOT to go to the mall. It was to get dressed and drive home, so I could continue to hang out once I got back in my pajamas. Which I did.
Even on Saturday the sales didn't speak to me, but by one o'clock I admit I was feeling a tiny need to reintegrate myself into society and a greater urge to consume some beef. Since I could hear the wind howling as I prepared to get my burger on, I also decided that French onion soup would be my first course. So I headed out for soup and a burger and a visit with Shannon and Erika and there was nothing left I needed from Thanksgiving weekend.