Posh bangers, Borough Market, November 2006.
I failed my blood test today. The phlebotomist couldn't find a vein. She even tried for my hand. I blacked out and said I'd come back on Monday.
We went shopping for Saturday before Thanksgiving Thanksgiving and discussed what to do about our suicidal homeless friend and whether or not he would be committing himself tonight.
This is not what Thanksgiving is about, unless, of course, you are thankful for your sanity and that you have a roof over your head.
It just puts a damper on the whole thing, doesn't it?