Well, y'all, I had a lovely Thanksgiving. Non-traditional, yes. Bad? No. It was an utter delight.
Mummy and Daddy and I went out to an Argentinian (Argentish? Argentineian??) restaurant with the members of Daddy's committee at work. The food wasn't amazing, but the company was delightful. Sheerly delightful. I think it was a good idea, because I imagine it would have been a little bit lonely at the dinner table with just us while Will is in another country.
Friday, we went out to dinner with the British and Scottish members of the NATO defense college, and they are truly wonderful. People from the UK have the best senses of humor ever. I was rolling all night.
But do you know what made me happiest about Friday and Thursday? I got to practice my British accent, and the actual British people said it was very good. One young lady from Scotland said I sound like Hermione from Harry Potter, which, y'all, made my day. My WHOLE day. I've decided I'm going to speak like a Brit for the rest of my existence, thank you.
Today, we decorated for Christmas. It was a glorious day, folks. I got up at 10 or somewhere thereabouts, and I noticed there were dirty pans in the kitchen. I was terribly depressed, because that means I missed out on my dad's yummy breakfast. But, fear not! I went over to hug him good morning and asked if he would wake me up next time he was making breakfast, and he stopped me. "No, I left these dishes out so I could make your breakfast later. I wanted to let you sleep."
Best Dad ever? Yes. As I noshed on my food, I read on my Kindle. I put down the Kindle after a while and we set up the small tree and our few Christmas decorations. I then read my Kindle some more. Then I cleaned my room, since my friend is flying in tomorrow. Then I read my Kindle some more. Then I realized it was 3 o'clock and I was still in my pajamas.
If you're still in your pajamas at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, odds are there is no point in putting on any semblance of regular clothing. So I resigned myself to my fate, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and read my Kindle. In my pajamas.
So later, I was video chatting with my best friend forever and she wouldn't put her video up because she was still in her pajamas. And I looked at myself, having put up my video already, and said, "Well, golly. You've got nothing on me. I've had my pajamas on since I went to bed last night. It is now nine at night. I win."
Is this what my life has become? Is my entire existence merely a contest of who can wear their pajamas the longest whilst using a British accent for twenty-four hours whilst also consuming mass quantities of mediocre Argentinian (Argentan? Argentineananean?) cuisine?
I think I should go to bed.