Short column today; I don't want to take you away from your turkey too long. Or give you an excuse to not help clean up. There's a dish towel out there with your name on it. In gravy.

I rarely try to be inspirational, but hey, it is Thanksgiving. Taking a moment to quit whining and count your blessings is a worthwhile exercise. You have 364 days to rail against your fate -- 363 if you give it a rest again on Christmas -- and that seems like enough.

Here's what I'm grateful for. Maybe you're thankful for some of the same things, or maybe you have better things, in which case, keep them to yourself, OK? I'm trying to be grateful here.

I'm thankful that I'm not under indictment.

I'm thankful that I am not a deer. Or a turkey.

I am thankful that I got to see Bruce Springsteen in Mellon Arena before it gets torn down. I am also thankful there are no plans to tear down Bruce Springsteen, even though he doesn't have a retractable roof.

I am thankful I didn't buy a house I can't really afford.

I am thankful that, despite being exposed repeatedly to Luke and Laura in the '80s, I never got hooked on a soap opera. I have lost so many dear friends over the years to the ravages of the daytime serial habit.

I am thankful for football games, because they give me a window when I know I can get a good parking space at Best Buy.

I am thankful for expiration dates. It's hard to protect yourself from a lot of threats in life, but at least you can avoid tainted soup.

I am thankful for whistleblowers.

I am thankful that I don't have to fill the gas tank of an SUV or the belly of a teenage boy.

I'm thankful not to live in a horror film, so I don't have to worry about zombies, ax murderers, doorways to evil dimensions in my basement, demented birds, angry mythical characters, possessed dolls or cannibals. And if I ever did find myself in a horror movie, I am thankful that I have the sense never to say, "Let's split up."

I am thankful to be staying home this weekend, not traveling with small children or a dog. I'm going to see "Avenue Q," because nothing aids digestion quite like puppet porn.

I'm thankful that the 500-ton drill is boring under the Allegheny and not under my garage.

I'm thankful that I have the sense to stop eating when I am full. Judging by what I read in the paper and hear on the news, most people, left to their own devices, will continue eating until the furniture gives way beneath them.

I am thankful not to have an evil twin.

I'm thankful for my mom, my friends, my health, strawberries, earplugs, live theater, butterflies, the T, the First Amendment, BBC America and dark rum.

And I'm especially thankful for you, for your literacy, good taste and fine sense of the absurd, and for the privilege of sharing something with you each week.

May your gravy be lumpless. Cheers!