Why my middle name is not 'Teetotaller'

Lemme tell you about my weekend.

Friday night, I get off work and on the way Mr. Roberts sends me a text to let me know that he WILL be going back to work the next day. I get home, call my neighbour to finalize plans for the garage sale we had planned this weekend and she asks whether she can take a raincheque. Me, and the $200 worth of change in my purse fume around the house for an hour or so waiting for Mr. Roberts to come over so we can go to supper.

He arrives, we drive around looking for something to pique our fancy when he spies The Keg. I hate the Keg. Not because I think their food isn't good, because the 2 things I've ever ordered have been good every time I get them. It's just that. I can really only order 2 things. I'm in a bad state of affairs already, cry at the table for a bit (I swear, not pregnant, just emotional) and we decide to pay for our drinks and forgo The Keg.

Well, I do. I'm sure he had a whole surf and turf meal planed out before the waterworks erupted.

We drive around, get pissed off about the lack of parking and our lack of reservations on a Friday night going into a long weekend, and finally opt to go back to my place to order Chinese.

So we do.

Except now it's below 10 outside, and inside, as well. My furnace is busted.

We put in our chinese order, call my landlord and open it up.

Between the two handymen they couldn't come to a consensus on what it was so I made plans to call Atco first thing in the morning to have them come look.

We eat our chinese and then run to Safeway to pick up the things I need to make Thanksgiving dinner.

Saturday morning dawns. He gets up, showers, kisses me and leaves. I get up and cry on the couch for a 1/2 hour while watching The Life Network.

I notice the Greek Restaurant we tried to get into on Friday actually has it's own show based on a overachiever Greek man's quest to open a 3rd Greek Family Restaurant in Edmonton. I see someone I know at the end, who has a 6 month old baby now, drunk and flirty. I wonder if she knew she was pregnant when it was filmed.

I call Atco, they give me a 24 hour timeline of when the repairman might be there and ask me to stay home for the entirety of it.

Tyler comes home. I'm sick of watching Even Stevens on the Family channel so I recruit him to stay on watch for the Atco guy and go to the mall for scrapbooking supplies, videos and books.

I come home. He leaves.

I watch 2 movies, and just as I'm about to hop in the shower, the Atco guy shows up.

45 minutes later he's disassembled, reassembled and fixed my furnace with the faulty part being the Thermocouple. The same part Mr. Roberts suspected it might have been.

He hands me the $54 bill, and leaves. I watch TV, read my book and go to sleep.

This morning I wake up before 9. Check on the thawing bird in the sink, check my email and straighten up the kitchen. But 9:30 I've stuffed the bird, brushed it with garlicky oil, and shoved it into a paper bag and into the roaster in the oven.

I don't care if it's 'not safe'. It's also the easiest and most effective way to cook a turkey.

By 1, Ross has called. He's not coming home for dinner. One week advance notice he had that I was cooking a turkey and he decides he's going to his mom's place for dinner. His mom that called this morning to say she wasn't doing a turkey or anything for Thanksgiving.

Thanks Ross. Just what I need. To be alone on Thanksgiving.

So what did I do?

I have a bottle of Sauvignon and another of Chenin, 12 hours worth of videos from Blockbuster and a bird, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes and vegetables, and I will have Thanksgiving with my dog.

If it isn't pathetic enough to eat a turkey dinner by yourself, why not go all out and get drunk on good wine, too?

I think we're all just one crappy weekend from alcoholism.