Yesterday was one of "those" Thanksgivings.
You know, the ones where you have to work (ah, the joys of being in emergency services and related fields), and have to deal with coworkers who don't have lives but really need to get them. Twelve fun-filled hours (during which I did additional research on the infamous Cocoanut Grove fire in Boston, about which, more on the 28th).
After work, I headed down to the lovely yet talented Mrs 618's lovely yet talented mother's house for dinner. Finished dinner and dropped off some goodie bags (sandwiches, chips, mac salad, cookies) at the local police department as a "Thank You" for the rest of the folks working.
Back to the MIL's house for cheesecake (hey, gimme a break, I'm a New Yorker), pumpkin pie, and the rest of that good stuff. The lovely yet talented missus and I headed back to the spacious yet luxurious Chez618 about 11:00.
When we got home, we crawled into bed and commenced cuddling.
Until, that is, Joey and Mr Bailey both decided to attack my feet under the blankets. Then Emily decided it was "Labrador Love Time" and shoved in between us.
Mustang Bobby has the right idea.
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