This is my third Sunday in a row. Wednesday felt more like a Friday than any actual Friday has felt in quite a while, meaning that Friday was my first Sunday. I’ve had some kind of a bug over the Thanksgiving break, meaning that I’ve been even more listless than normal.

[And now the worst transition ever, courtesy of said listlessness]

A week ago Thursday my dad fell off my grandma’s roof. It was a one-story fall onto a concrete driveway—and my dad isn’t exactly the youngest man around—but he managed to survive with merely a concussion and a handful of very large bruises. Six short inches away from where his head actually landed were big, sharp (decorative) rocks: I will use the strongest analogy that I possess in my linguistic arsenal, and say that those rocks would have been like spikes to my dad’s Mega Man.

Had he fallen just slightly differently, I would have had the most bitter Thanksgiving ever. As it is, I had a quiet holiday.