One more day, then it's back to work

Another Thanksgiving for the record books. The beauty about dysfunction is that a dysfunctional-family gathering is never boring. For the first time in my adult life, I overslept on turkey day and got the bird in the oven an hour later than I wanted. Nobody seemed to notice that the first course of turkey was a little medium rare.
I learned a very valuable lesson tonight as well. If you're going to have a group of people at your new apartment, it might be a good idea to invest in a plunger before the festivities. That saves a trip to Wal-Mart at 9 p.m. after you discover that someone did not take their leftovers home with them.
OK, so tonight, my 20-year-old son is spending the night in anticipation of Black Friday. Personally, I've never ventured out of the house on Black Friday. But Grant wants me to go jeans shopping with him at 6 a.m. What's a mother to do? Like a fool, I said "yes." Dang. People have died during an early bird attempt to obtain a Tickle Me Elmo.
I just know I am going to bed tonight, only to have nightmares of getting caught up in a stampede that would rival a 1979 Who concert. I'd hate to think I may have to deck a middle-aged woman over a pair of Wranglers. It's more likely I'd find it necessary to pummel some fool for being rude.
In any event, I'd better get some rest. Without a doubt, it's going to be a bumpy ride.