Now Is That Gratitude?

What happens when you set your regular writing day to Thursdays and you are an American, you immediately understand that once a year, there will be a collision between your dedication to serve your compulsion to do things the same way over and over again as often as possible in a futile attempt to pound the idea of scattering entropy and an indifferent universe away from the active parts of your psyche on the one hand and, on the other hand, Thanksgiving. Thursday! Every year!

Well, that day has obviously arrived. I can report that I am happy to have had all three of my adult children here for the day and simultaneously absolutely ruined with fatigue because I have control-freak tendencies that will borderline-violently refuse to allow any help in either food preparation or kitchen-cleaning. Also I have been getting up at 5 am every day since World Cup started because I am cursed to live on the west coast of America in a time zone that is hostile to convenient coordination with any other part of the world for events.

Am I going to do it again tomorrow morning for a dog-ass match like Qatar vs. Senegal? Of course I am, what are you, new here? And through my bloodshot eyes and breathing heavy with the active effort of staying awake sitting on my ratty couch in the darkness of pre-dawn, I'll still somehow manage to be pissed off I couldn't figure out a way to also have watched Wales vs. Iran live at 2 am.

Anyway, that's why it's not even 9 pm and I'm going to fucking bed. To make up for the lack of... length? Content? Anything useful? Here's a picture of a koala wearing a hat and eating a popsicle. Ice lollie? I don't know what they call it in Australia.