I went to the gym twice today. Once in the morning and again at night. I wasn’t alone. The gym was packed. People are already trying to burn off the turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and cranberry sauce that they’re going to eat tomorrow.

That’s the great part about Thanksgiving. Past having to deal with your family, there are no obligations. No presents to get. Cards to write. Your only obligation is to eat and drink.

Of course, that’s not why I went to the gym twice today.

I went to the gym twice because when I was a kid the World’s Fattest Man lived on Long Island. And when he died, they had to knock down the side of his house, wrap him in a pool cover for a body bag, and then fork lift him out of there.

Since then I’ve been plagued by this deep childhood fear that if I ate too much then one day somebody might have to wrap me in a pool cover and fork lift me out of a house.

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