At Your Thanksgiving table
Something isn’t right
You are missing someone special
Who would be here tonight
They sat right there
In their special chair
Last year and those before
To make you laugh and tell the tales
Of when you once were young
They loved you every season
You’ll love them many more
But this year’s not the same
Without them coming through the door
OMG ! I went for Thanksgiving dinner and the hostess really was licking her fingers while finishing tossing the salad for our dinner. Then she spoke to me with this whisper voice because she has laryngitis from being sick.
My last post about germaphobia and the horrors of the holidays came true!
I brought my own towel in my purse, to dry my hands on. I anticipated she would have everyone washing and then drying their hands on the little kitchen towel hanging under the sink that has been there for two weeks.
I started to open her towel drawer to get out a clean one, because I forgot I had brought one from apartment. She gestured to the yucky one. Uhg! Nonono
I remembered the one I had brought from home. I took it out I dried my hands and then hung it from my back pocket, to have it for the next time I washed my hands. (since I have that OCD frequent hand-washing obsession)
I know, I know, it sounds crazy. Other people would use the same tiny hand towel everyone else was. I was the only person with a big bath towel hanging from their back pocket.
During the dinner conversation, one of the guests mentioned that she has hepatitis and yellow jaundice.
My towel from home, hanging from my back pocket, is looking pretty good now, huh?