November 22, 2001
Toilet Paper Turkeys
Hoorah for feasting. Have I mentioned I love Thanksgiving? I am giving thanks for a day without work and lots of tasty things to eat.
Jill's Thanksgiving Diet
One cup Cafe Mocha (for breakfast)
Innumerable crackers smeared with Cheese Ball
Turkey with Gravy
Corn
Green Beans
Mashed Potatoes
Stuffing
Warm Roll with Butter
One piece Chocolate Pudding Pie
4 Christmas M&M's
I'm guessing about the number of M&M's. I'm not really sure. I felt I might as well be detailed, though, if I were going to bother at all.
I feel squashy and delicious.
And have decided that children are adorable, if only for small periods of time. According to Logan, my enlightened six year old cousin, "I don't like this chicken. It tastes like turkey."
I have a new motivation for getting my own place with Kels. Someone in my family, definitely not me, does not quite comprehend the concept of toothpaste usage. No matter what I do, when I go to brush my teeth, the cap is off, and the hole where the toothpaste comes out is obscured by blobs of dried colgate. So I clean the toothpaste cap and hole. Put some on my brush without having any leftover.
I come back the next day, and it is crusty again. Can this culprit not wager the amount of toothpaste he/she wishes to transfer onto their brush? So they leave globs on the head of the toothpaste bottle and subsequent users squish it with the cap instead of wiping it off.
You'd think something as small as that would not bother me. But it does.
Also, let me discuss toilet paper. When the roll is empty, it occurs to no one to remove it and replace it with a fresh roll. Instead, it is left on the little toilet paper spinning rod thing and the fresh roll is placed on the counter right above it. Now, I am quite a hoss (not), but even so it really is not that difficult to remove said empty roll from little toilet paper spinning rod thing and replace it with the new roll. I mean, you still fetch it and carry it to the same place anyway. It's three seconds of effort.
Kelsi is thinking, "Um, Jill, I'm not so sure we should live together now..."
astera at turkey