“I cook with wine, sometimes I even add it to the food.”
Last night I went to bed early for me, around 9:45. I had watched one exciting football game, the Ravens and the Broncos, and decided all that excitement had made me tired. About 11:30 I was woken up by banging sounds. My mouse trap had captured another victim, making the count three, one for each day. The mouse wasn’t at all happy and was banging from inside the plastic trap trying to get out. I figured I’d take it for a ride in the morning, but it was banging so hard the trap was actually sliding across the shelf. I got up, put on my sweatshirt and slippers, called for Gracie to get off the bed, got my keys and the three of us drove about four blocks away. I stopped the car and let the mouse loose, wishing it well on its continued journey through life. Gracie and I got home and went back to bed but not before I reset the trap. At 2:30 the banging started again, another mouse. This time I wasn’t getting up. Let it bang! Well, the mouse banged so hard it somehow got out of the trap. I had lost mouse number 4 so I got up, reset the trap and went back to bed. Not ten minutes later the idiot mouse was stuck in the trap again. This time I got up and did it all over again: I put on my sweatshirt and slippers, called for Gracie to get off the bed, got my keys and drove the three of us about four blocks away. I got out of the car and let the mouse loose. I hope it finds it friend, at least he’ll have a neighbor he knows. That’s 4 mice in 4 days.
It is 3:45, and I’m sitting at my computer wishing I were tired enough to go back to bed. It’s warm outside but it’s raining. Gracie is asleep on the couch curled in her afghan. She is no dumb animal. Nope, the dump animal is typing. Luckily, though, I can pass the time by watching the Earth self-destruct from volcanic eruptions.
Many years ago I’d often be getting home around 1:30 or 2 after a Saturday night of carousing with my friends. We’d start with dinner then hit a few bars. In those days not many bars were opened all winter, and we were a caravan of cars looking for oases of sorts. A few of my friends bartended at night, and we always stopped at their establishments for a drink or two and to say hello. We never stayed long anywhere. Part of the fun was the bar hopping. We didn’t care if there was music. We enjoyed each other’s company and laughing and talking together. Sometimes we ended our evenings with breakfast as Hyannis had a place which served all night. It was generally pretty rowdy by three or four in the morning.
I can’t even imagine having the stamina to do that again. Now my carousing starts by 5:30 or 6 and ends by ten or as late as eleven when I start yawning. I still have a good time, just a shorter good time.Explore posts in the same categories: Musings comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.