It feels a little bit like giving up. Like when you decide just to put up the little Christmas tree. The one that fits on the tabletop, because there’s really no one but yourself to enjoy it. There is always a big turkey for Thanksgiving. Sometimes I went to other peoples house, sometimes I cooked dinner and invited all my single friends. There were a few times, after we were married that we ordered a ready made dinner with sliced turkey. Busy times. But those were few and far between.
But when the wife said, “let’s just get a turkey breast this year” I was already there with her. Most of it, the dark meat gets thrown away anyway. There is almost always just the three of us. Our thing is getting a big ass bird and eating turkey sandwiches for two or three days afterward. Then we have had our fill of turkey for the year. This year, though, we will just get a big ass breast.
Fair enough. Done and dusted.
But then, then, she said “why don’t you grab one of those foil pans over there.”
“But we have the roasting set, with the turkey lifter and everything!”
“Yeah, but it’s a pain to clean up. Make it easy on yourself.”
I considered this. I do a lot of the prep and cleanup at Thanksgiving. It is kind of tiring. But the roasting pan…it had been in the family for decades. It was my mother’s and maybe someone else’s before that.
“Okay. That makes sense I guess. I’ll think about it.”
But, I mean, what’s next? It’s a slippery slope and the next thing you know you’re putting up a little ceramic Christmas tree on Thanksgiving night and calling it a day.
I still haven’t bought the foil pan.
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