I try to shake cartoon images of explosions and suddenly hairless dogs from my head. All will be okay. My husband is an intelligent man, and if he says this is fine and that it will result in an orgasmic burst of infused flavor in our holiday turkey, forever changing Thanksgiving in our house for the better, I have to believe him. (Whispering loudly) But I'm scared. I can't help it. I'm just a wee bit frightened.
The kit itself was a great deal. Brinkmann 815-4001-S Turkey Fryer on Amazon. Gotta love Amazon Prime. Delivered to your door free of charge in 2 days. And I wear the HELL out of the membership during the holidays, don't you? And do you use the wish list feature for the kids? I know, it's awesome! I keep a running list for each of the kids all year long, and I just keep modifying it, so I always have the most up to date gift idea list for each--for birthdays, or holidays or whatever. And because my family lives out of state, I can share the list for any kid at any time to help with ideas. Why am I rambling about Amazon? I don't know. Can you tell I'm nervous? Shit. Okay, I've distracted myself long enough.
Vern, as you can imagine, is practically giddy. I'm just anxious. And sweaty. And keep switching from nervous giggling to a blank wide-eyed stare as I picture all of the things that could go wrong. The latest vision--the one I had JUST NOW as I was typing this--included a loud boom, a ginormous hole in our backyard, my dog squealing and dragging his butt on the ground as he tried to extinguish the flames from the few hairs left on his pink and scorched body, and my husband standing there next to said hole, eyebrowless, with smoke coming off his now black and singed clothing. Not pretty. Shit, what I have I gotten myself into?
UPDATE: So, it's here. And as the UPS guy placed it on the credenza, he scoffed. I shit you not, he scoffed, and said, "Be careful, these things are dangerous. Don't blow your house up." Motherfu...