“Oh, you better watch out, you better let her lie, you better not shout, I’m telling you why, the Tweedle Twirp is coming to town. She’s always always sleeping. She never wants to wake. Don’t even try to get her up, she’ll be a crank for crankiness’ sake.”…Tweeds gets in today and the parents tomorrow for Thanksgiving!…How is it Adam’s the one back in school, but I’m the one who’s gained the freshman 15…Could it have anything to do with the two, count ’em, two Thanksgiving dinners I had yesterday? The one I had a BU during lunch or the one I had at HBS for dinner? (At $30,000 a year, we never, ever turn down we-really-paid-for-it free food from Hah-vahd.) And for the record, the non-Ivy League dinner was far superior… Why didn’t we get a snow shovel sooner?…Now I know the purpose of door mats. I’m guessing snow on the hard wood floors is not ideal…Is there anyone out there who doesn’t know that I’m afraid of driving in snow… Adam hasn’t blogged in an age. I’m getting to the point where I’m considering going into his blog and writing entries for him… We need to go to the grocery store today. Bet it’s going to be empty…. Oy.
Let me give you three truths, and then a multiple-choice quiz:
1. Wilson Farms is known in Boston for having perhaps the best produce in town.
2. Their fresh turkeys, which need to be preordered well in advance, are supposed to be delish.
3. You must pick up your fresh turkey before noon on Wednesday or they give it up for sale.
With this information in hand do you:
A. Compile a careful shopping list and then take advantage of their extended hours and go get the turkey and your other Thanksgiving needs before work on Tuesday?
B. Compile a careful list, give Adam detailed instructions that even he cannot screw up, and then send him midday when he has a break in classes?
C. Compile a careful list that you leave on the dining room table at home, while you take advantage of the extended hours and go within a half hour of closing on Tuesday, to get pushed, shoved, and generally trampled, as you try to guess at what you need, wending a shopping cart through a space hardly bigger than a garden shed, along with 50 gadzillion other people on a mission wielding shopping carts, in a town known for its horrible drivers, cars, shopping carts, and otherwise?
To get a little suspense going, I won’t tell you the right answer.
