Just got a phone call from the butchers. He's got an order written down for _A_ 30 kilo turkey - the idea of which kinda makes the skin crawl, if not the earth tremble - as opposed to 30 kilos of turkey, in turkey-sized lumps (for a given genetically-inbred hormone-infused definition of "turkey-sized".) He was confused. Which is fine, except he started the conversation by saying:
"I'm looking at my order for Christmas turkeys..."
...at which point he paused, having picked up on a certain amount of angst from the other end of the line. It may have been my yelling:
"WHAT?!? Those aren't for Christmas, they're for TOMORROW! Please tell me I have turkeys for tomorrow!"
All sorted; not a problem. I have not had a heart attack, the butcher knows the plan, and you will not be eating turkey-shaped lumps of mashed potatoes. Unless you're just into that sort of thing. Don't let me stop you.