I’m Not The Matriarch

Yesterday was Thanksgiving.

And I don’t know why y’all. Leading up to yesterday. Kept asking me if I was hosting.

First of all. I’m not domestic. In any form.

I keep trying to tell y’all this.

Two weeks ago. I washed the Cross Country uniforms. In the dryer. Chose the settings and everything. Threw in some detergent. And pressed start.

That’s…I mean, I figured it out. After they ran through an entire cycle. And I went to put them in the dryer. And they were already dry…

But also. I am not the matriarch of my family. I have refused that role. I surrendered any current or future claims to that role. When I sold my house to my eldest.

So, he has to take over. Once my mother decides to retire. From matriarchy.

Which…

It should maybe be somewhat soon.

Because this conversation…

“Have you watched Yellowstone?”

No. But Tommy Carlos called me a Beth the other day. And no one will tell me if I’m mad at him for that. So I guess I have to.

“Yes! You have to. But start with season one.”

…what…

…where the fuck did you start…?

But she’s adorable. And still cooks us all the food. And sends the extras home in care packages. So I can continue to be gluttonous. In the privacy of my bedroom.

Go ahead and judge. It’s the most comfortable space in my apartment.

My dad will definitely maintain the role of patriarch. As long as he damn well pleases.

Because ain’t a damn one of us gonna challenge him on it.

After what we learned during post-dinner games.

He rated “getting your tongue stuck to a frozen pole” as worse than “treating your own bullet wound.”

“I’ve treated bullet wounds. But have you seen that movie where that kid gets his tongue stuck to a pole? It took them a long time to get him free.”

Probably just best not to play games called Worst Case Scenario with Vietnam Vets.

They have a skewed sense of worst case…

On the other hand, I watched him and my youngest spend way too long trying to figure out where to put Mr. Mittens in the worst board game ever created.

But I got family and football and puppy cuddle time in yesterday.

And I am fully content with my role as guest. And not matriarch. On these holidays.

And I hope the rest of y’all used yesterday’s made up holiday as an excuse to do something happy.

Also, I would appreciate if no one told the uniform story to track coach.

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