I'm at my dad's, blogging from the other side of the kitchen table (opposite the side where I usually sit), which seems to be the only place in the house where I can scam on the neighbors' unsecured wireless.
Steph is at home with pleurisy. I was very worried about leaving her, but she convinced me to go, saying that she'd be fine and that she'd call Dan and Doug if something happened. I miss her. And the pets.
So far, my dad and I have cooked the turkey, which is almost ready to eat, and we (mostly my dad) replaced the other taillight gasket in the Honda so my trunk won't leak. I painted the wiper arms flat black where the paint had burned away (sounds like a precious thing to do on a 13-year-old car, but the silver metal on the tops of the arms reflects into my eyes in an annoying fashion).