It’s almost Thanksgiving. I don’t know about you, just the thought of Thanksgiving makes my tastebuds percolate (like the dance from the 90s). Yams will be candied, cranberries will be sauced, and cheese will be macaronied. I’m not even going to bring up sweet potato pies, dressing/stuffing, and the bountiful assortment of roasted [fill in the blank with any meat you can think of]. Just writing about this stuff gives me post-prandial somnolence (that’s the medical term for the sleepy sensation you get after eating; I stopped calling it the ‘itis’ since it affects everyone). As much as these thoughts excite my taste buds, they also make my waistline say “Bruh?” If you asked me for a Thanksgiving relationship status update, I’d tell you, “It’s complicated.”
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