No longer can I gorge on Thanksgiving as in days of yore...not with child-hoisting and mom-corralling and order-taking and whatnot. So before you go believing any urban legends, it's not the tryptophan that'll make you sleepy, and it's not the Detroit Lions. It's just plain old garden-variety exhaustion, added to in my case by all the new-job-running-around-filling-out-paperwork behavior.
You: go to Boogershoppe. Me: go to sleep.