Thankful for what... ?

There's an episode on the first season of House in which someone finds out his comatose wife's illness was likely contracted through sex with another man. While sitting by her bedside, he confesses that a part of him hopes she doesn't recover because of how she got the disease. The man then asks one of the doctors if this makes him a terrible person.

I was anticipating an awful Thanksgiving holiday. Not just because it was going to be my first Thanksgiving without my father, but because relationships among certain people who were going to be at dinner have become - to be diplomatic - strained. In the weeks and days leading up to the holiday, I just could not imagine this going well. I envisioned plenty of scenarios that ended with me taking a swing at someone with a turkey leg. Leaving dinner early had become an inevitability in my imagination.

But Thanksgiving was actually quite pleasant. There was still some tension over unresolved issues between me and a relative or two. I also couldn't resist arguing with the conservatives in the room. And my mother chose to hide from everyone and wouldn't eat. Overall, however, I thought the evening was nice.

(Though we did get majorly screwed on leftovers. A 20 lb. turkey for seven people, and all we got to take home was a #@$%ing drumstick? I'm making my own turkey this week, man. I want my turkey sandwiches!)

As I drove home, it occurred to me that I had nothing interesting to write about. Thanksgiving had given me nothing. And I was anticipating plenty. I figured I'd be annoyed, if not outright angry, and would vomit my bile all over this blog. But I enjoyed myself. And I was slightly disappointed by that.

Does that make me a terrible person?

(Image from "The Boondocks" © 2005 Aaron McGruder)