Tell me why I just walked into my childhood bedroom and found my nearly wedding dress laid out on my bed, covered with a sheet. No really, tell me why.
If my mother is trying to make a clever spoof symbolizing the death of my engagement to Rich and thus, the imminent demise of what the wedding dress represented, could she at least not put it on my bed? It would be nice if it were not the first thing I saw when I walked in the house. (And, for the record, the last time I left said wedding dress here, it was nicely packaged in an out of the way closet.)
So, Thanksgiving indeed. I am thankful that I do not live at home anymore.