Happy Thanksgiving!

 

 

If you’re in need of a little break from the stuffing making and potato mashing, I have a little Thanksgiving tale for you …

 

 

 

 

You see, I had a nightmare last night. No, not the one where I’m falling off a cliff. Or where the tidal wave comes out of nowhere when I’m on the beach. Or the one where I can’t find that one “thing” I desperately need to find and keep going around in one unending frustrated circle after another. Or the one where I forgot to turn on the oven and the turkey and all the fixings never cook …

 

 

My nightmare last night had to do with the Gilmore Girls revival. Tomorrow is the big day that four short movies will be released all at once on Netflix. To say I’ve been waiting for this day with unbridled excitement would be an understatement.

 

 

I’ve been stalking the Gilmore Girls fan pages. Have watched the trailers more times than I’d like to admit … oh, and teared up each and every time.

 

 

I’m pretty sure I’ve read — or watched — every interview with every actor appearing in the revival.

 

 

So the nightmare: I don’t recall the exact timeline of events, but all I remember is that somehow I had other commitments tomorrow. And Saturday. And through much of Sunday until Sunday evening. Late.

 

 

Which meant I wouldn’t be able to sit down to watch the revival … four ninety minute episodes … until sometime after 11 PM on Sunday night!

 

 

That also meant I would have to avoid all forms of media. Print and Social, for an entire weekend. And radio. I wouldn’t be able to turn on the radio in the car. Because as much as I want to see what happens through those four 90 minutes episodes the “last four words” loom large.

 

 

I woke up so sad. And depressed.

 

 

And you know what? I can’t shake that feeling away.