While you were offering to host Thanksgiving dinner this year, you basked in the glow of social acceptance. Now, upon reflection, do you belatedly realize that, like the drunken prom queen, you have tumbled headlong into a "sitch-ee-ay-shun?" Do you dread spending a week coping with The Great Turkey who’ll come to roost in your fridge; the poking, the prodding, having to accommodate his excessive need for personal space? Are you envisioning yourself on that frosty midnight before Thanksgiving, at the kitchen sink, up to your elbows in.
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