Is always the same.
Stay home.
Do not under any circumstances cook or shop.
Make a microwaved warm turkey stuffing gravy cranberry mashed potatoes sandwich.
Two hours later wonder if I should make another.
Discover children had the same brilliant idea and one of these ingredients (usually the mashed potatoes) is no more.
Remind myself not to cook.
As the leftovers thin, this resolution becomes less and less tenable.
I go to the kitchen.
Husband is already prepping a second turkey.
Now, resolve is out the window. Whatever is missing shall be replenished.
Midway through the process, exhaustion hits hard and I wonder why in heaven’s name I didn’t let the tryptophans do their work.
When the dishes show up in the sink, I wonder why I didn’t order pizza.
Someone is sick of turkey and leftovers and orders pizza.
Our house is now awash in food. There are life and death rock paper scissors games being held over the last of the pecan pie.
All is forgiven when someone makes the second gravy which allows for a whole two more days of the glorious leftover sandwiches –we all praise having cooked a second turkey.
End of Friday.
Saturday Morning –joy from leftovers remains though slightly understated by comparison with Friday. Last scraps of whatever pie still exists get the love of whipped cream if there’s any left. However, no one will go to the store for any reason. You will eat whatever we have.
Saturday night –Memo posted on the fridge of the menu: cold cereal, waffles, pb&j, all are good, but death to anyone who suggests cooking.
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