Giving thanks Snape-style

This Thanksgiving, it is not celebrated in the British Isles. Better to be grateful for something every day. Besides two brutal masters and apparently no future, what have I to be grateful for? For now I'll stick with a decent bed, hot food, a chemistry set to play with, a meager paycheck, and black coffee. Could be worse, I could be in Azkaban.

SnarK snaRk snark snrk sNARk SNARKsnrksnark SNArK ! !

What, you expected something more profound? Maybe some heart warming little tidbit about what a lovely Thanksgiving I had? This is the woman who shares her soul with Severus Snape, of all people, for cryin' out loud!!!!! Let's make a deal. You head on over to someone else's happy, cheerful little blog with Kincade paintings on it, and I'll go puke on someone else's doorstep. I did call my Grandmother, who is alone. I called my Dad, who is sad and alone. And, yes, I am alone. Thanksgiving is one of those holidays for nice perfect little families with five kids and the material possession of the American Dream who can delude themselves, for a little while, that we are not at the end of each and every day alone – in our thoughts, our dreams, and at the end of our lives! Yes, we all face similar challenges and hopes and can identify with each other through all that good stuff. But ultimately, we're also scrabbling over one another like rats in the lab cage – and only one person has to live with you 24-7-365. You. And yes, you will die.

Now, go have some dead bird, mashed vegetable matter and hot chocolate.