A couple days ago, Kacoon called me apologetically, then said, "Please don't hate me, but I only took the turkey out of the freezer this morning."
"Oh," I said. "Why would I be mad about that?"
"Because it's supposed to defrost in the refrigerator for four days, isn't it?" Kacoon asked.
"Yeah, or we can just defrost it overnight by soaking it hourly like we did last year," I said.
"Oh," Kacoon said.
Today, she called to ask me some questions.
"What time do you get off work tomorrow?" she asked me. "Because we can do the shopping tomorrow and take care of everything."
"I think I'll be over at a reasonable time," I said to her.
"Oh, OK," she said, sounding nervous.
And a moment passed.
"I need to make the cornbread stuffing tonight, don't I? That way, it doesn't get too soft, right?"
"It's only Tuesday," I reminded her.
"Oh yeah, I can make it tomorrow," she said.
"Or on Thursday," I said.
"No, it needs to be crispy," she said.
"You're doing what I did last year," I said to her. "You're overthinking Thanksgiving. Don't sweat the dinner. Everything will be fine."
Last year, I stayed up all night rubbing down the turkey with salt, massaging it and keeping it in warm water. I felt like I was giving it a spy treatment. After the dinner ended, I collapsed from exhaustion, pleased with my success.
This year, we're supposed to have Kacoon, Mike, me, Midget, Kacoon's mom, her sister, her sister's boyfriend and our mutual friends David and Jamie.
The turkey I bought last week is 15 pounds. Kacoon keeps asking me about the ingredients in bread stuffing. This is going to be fun.
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