In 2 hours, I’ll be waking up to flip a turkey. Its apparently soaking in something that will make it juicy and tasty, but we don’t have a pot nearly big enough to soak the whole damn thing. So halfway through the night, I’ll wake up, flip 10 pounds of dead bird, wash my hands, and attempt to go back to sleep.
Why attempt? Because in 3 more hours I have to get back up, drain it, and toss it in an oven after ScrapJam does some other things to it. She’s too scared to reach inside it to yank out the innards, but she’s ok with a sub-cutaneous herb-butter rub. Logic.
So, if my next post is incoherent, its lack of sleep and turkey overdose talking.