My wife and I had an eerily successful Thanksgiving dinner last night. All our guests arrived on time. Everything was cooked and on the table at precisely 4 P.M. All kitchen mishaps were minor. We made three pies, none of which fell. Our daughter was cheerful and charming. My brother told funny stories. The dog lapped up the table scraps. No one drank too much. The neighbors stopped by and joined us for dessert. My mother-in-law did all the dishes.

I feel like something horrible is going to happen. I'm going to avoid major thoroughfares for a week.

Labels: Writing Process