Thanksgiving Through the, er, Ages

I remember when the day before Thanksgiving used to be a time to try to get out of work early, rush home to eat dinner, hopefully have tickets to go to the Buffalo Sabres' hockey game, go or watch the broadcast of the game at home and then rush out to meet friends and go to see bands at the Continental, Nietzsche's, Mohawk Place, the Sportsmen's Tavern or, gulp, Stage One.
Now, I will rush from work to Wegmans, then pick Walker Evans up from dog day care, make dinner (ground poultry sausage blended in Chef's sauce on top of wheat thin spaghetti), watch the Sabres' hockey game on television and, if I didn't already doze off, fall asleep early.