Thanks

Life has been crazy in general and Thanksgiving didn’t go well. For that reason I think it’s more important than ever to cornball out and remember what I’m thankful for.

My family, which is in the midst of a lot of crappiness and instability right now, but we’ll get through it and be better for it. Well, that, or I’ll snorkel in chardonnay and wait for the sweet release of death.

The four members of my not-really-my-family-but-basically-my-family, who have always been hugely important to me, but especially lately.

My friends, who are so awesome that sometimes, like tonight, I don’t know what I did to deserve them. Especially one in particular. I’m not sure how I got so lucky as to find her.

My job, which has been insane, but the plus side to that has been that my normally stoic boss is heaping me with praise. I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

My front right tire, which went flat on Wednesday in the parking lot of work, and not on the highway.

My school principal, who threw his tie over his shoulder and changed it so that I didn’t have to wait for Triple A. (A gesture that, unbeknownst to him, will earn him a tin of Crate and Barrel sea salt caramels when he gets to his desk Monday morning. I’ll talk more about those morsels of unspeakable deliciousness at a later date. A friend reminded me that I once described them as Jesus in candy form, but that’s a little tacky and clearly not something that would ever come out of my mouth.)

My checking account, which has not been hurting for awhile thanks to all the extra work.

My upcoming third date with a boy I might really like. (Although I’m a little afraid that he’ll end up being a serial killer because I wrote about it here.)

My La Mer body cream, Benefit’s Mr. Frosty which is the makeup equivalent of a full night’s sleep, and the fact that a friend recently told me that I’ve perfected the smoky eye. (I may be having a cheesy moment, but I’m still the same materialistic, superficial girl that I usually am.)

(Bonus: The fact that my dad once looked at a La Mer display at Bloomingdale’s and, while I swooned and slathered it all over me, said, “What’s lamer?”)

My blog, which is a blasty blast to write, and that you are kind enough to read.

My bed, which I’m about to crawl into and not come out of for 12 hours. Which of course means that I will not be there when Kohl’s opens at FOUR IN THE MORNING. What the eff, people?