My month of a weird, mixed schedule has come to a close. Because of it, I have the next four days off and I am quite looking forward to them. I'll probably be able to think about Eve again. While my new position makes work much more pleasant, nothing makes the hours shorter.
Today was Thanksgiving. I worked it as I have for the bulk of Thanksgivings during my adult life. Please, don't pity me. I've never worked a normal office job where you get holidays off. I have no idea what that life is like and I don't miss what I've never had. Plus, I am a holiday Scrooge type as far as I can tell.
While we don't do a Thanksgiving spread, we do like the traditional foods. Turkey is not something I often make. They are to big for a two person household. My husband also has no deep link to Thanksgiving. He is British after all. Instead, we order a Thanksgiving meal from Bob Evans. It's quite delicious and it is how we have had a sensible, easily managed and consumed Thanksgiving.
Thursday, being a work day was out for eating together. We did so on Wednesday instead. Our meals are not formal. Little in my life is. That left Thursday morning for me to prepare a container of food to go to work with me. I also made a salad and grabbed an apple. I've learned the hard way not to expect to find food during major Holidays.
It was around 1600 and I was hungry but my co-worker had no food. We'd have some dining options in a few more hours but we'd already been at work for six hours by then. Ready to dive into my lovely dinner, I didn't want to do that in front of him. How does one indulge in a luxurious dinner while their coworker still has a few hours to eat.
One shares. I'm a sharer. It is a curse really. It left me with two choices. Don't eat or offer half of my meal.
I offered. He accepted with true appreciation. I keep actual supplies in the office. I broke out the plates and silverware and divided everything up. I warmed it and served him his half. I warmed mine up and we settled down and ate. It was not a lavish meal. I had packed my favorite bits. Some turkey and dressing both slathered in gravy. Some corn and a heavy handed helping of cranberry sauce.
It wasn't the biggest meal I've ever had. It did not leave me stuffed to the gills. I'm quite hungry now, eight hours later now that I am home for the night. I wish that I had known what would have come. I would have packed more. Yet that whimsical thought is foolish, for it was not a preplanned thing.
But as I recounted the story to my husband he said, "You had a real Thanksgiving dinner, you know. The kind you complain about people not having."
"True," I said to him as we walked our evening walk with the dogs. "It is one of the better ones that I've had."