Black Friday

I know nothing about so-called Black Friday.

What a name to give to a day following Thanksgiving. I don't even know why they call it that. That forces me to guess. I bet you $10.00 right here that it refers to red meaning debt and black meaning profit. Come on, what else could it be?  This is where merchants come into their profit. I bet.

BLAM! Day id iz. Here's my bet.

My Thanksgiving was quiet, thanks for asking.

Quieter than quiet. Peaceful as possible, tranquil as a Zen Buddhist monastery when they're not having their self defense classes. You could hear a pin drop over here. A pin drop onto a door mouse's fur sitting on the carpet when you have your sound-cancelling headphones on. 

That phrase doesn't even make sense. You could hear a pin drop if a pin dropped in the soundless place, but if you did then that would be pin-noise and no longer quiet. It'd be like the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk going, "knock it off with all that pin-dropping racket!" 

So quiet and peaceful and tranquil and sleepy that I just couldn't be arsed.

To cook the turkey meant I had to do the dishes first. 

And that's an all-day challenge. 

There's less than one drying rack worth of dishes, not many at all, but it takes me all day in three stages. Ridiculous. I realize that. But that's what it takes. I had to put pants on and socks and shoes and everything. I had to take a shower first. And that meant drying off. See? The whole thing was backed up with predicate activities. So by the time it came to the turkey I was all pfffft f.u., Turkey.

So today, Black Friday, named for its profit, I rubbed the turkey with olive oil and set it upside down on a rack inside a baking tray and baked it halfway. Flipped it breast side up and finished it. It was gloriously browned, overcooked and dry beyond reason and that's what I get for not paying attention.  

Maybe I shouldn't have napped when that was going on.

I don't care.

I ate both wings. 

And, Man, were they ever good. I must now pray.

"Dear Lord, thank for this splendid turkey and thank you for all the people involved who intruded to give it to me. For me, Lord. For me. I don't even know these people, and they did it for me. I didn't even need a turkey, nor want one, but they gave me one anyway. Your people did. Thank you for them. They are the sweetest most easily generous people I've met. They're following your example, living in faith. Lord, you've got some great people working for you. Amen.

The wing bones are H - U - G - E.  I dismembered the bird, pulled off all the meat, sliced it up, filled my largest bowl with turkey slices and bits, broke the bones and loaded the broken carcass into the InstantPot with a gallon of water, divided the meat in the bowl into 5 Seal-a-Meal bags and now all that is in the freezer. That's my Black Friday.

And there is nothing that I'd care to buy. I'm so self-satisfied there is nothing that I feel to need. I cannot create a need. All of the ads that I've seen fail to push my button, nothing seems good. 

$300 knives for $70 demand to be purchased just for the principle of commerce and savings. 

But no. 

I have more knives than a man needs, and Boy, do those things ever cut. They'll cut you right up.

No. These Japanese knives are beveled on one side. I have one of those. Very sharp. But it turns to the left as it slices. Great for cutting the peel off oranges but that's it. 

Or the Hanes Men's zip up hooded fleece jacket for $11.20. I'd get the light blue one then draw something on it. Something big and outrageous like a kepher bug. With wings. Here, I'll draw one right now.

But then I'd have to go around wearing a stupid goddamn cheap ass jacket. And I'm thinking, no way would I go out in public like that. I just couldn't see myself wearing such a thing. I don't do such things as paint interiors or change the oil anymore. There is no need for such a garment. I wouldn't wear this as a teen so why start now at this late point?

It's not bad. Maybe I should buy one to sleep in. I think this is the least desirable color. Dudes like darker colors. 

That's the thing about dudes. We don't put that much thought into clothes. Usually we let our wife pick them out. We wear what they want us to wear, happy to have someone else decide and do the shopping for us. I knew a guy who told me he "found" his clothes (when I asked why he always looks like a hobo.)