So this is what debauchery looks like in Our Little Town: Aimless web-surfing. Vacuuming. Taking large amounts of leftover-garage-sale material over to Goodwill. Taking half of it back to the landfill. Finding that the landfill closed twelve minutes (twelve!) earlier. Stacking it back up in the garage. Calling various friends - sometimes leaving messages and sometimes not, because really what do I have to say? Staring idly at the cats. Reading.
Well, actually I shouldn't say that this is all the debauchery one gets here. I was never very good at it, even when I was young and single. There are probably numerous ways to get into all sorts of delicious, delicious trouble around here. It's just that I couldn't find them with both hands and a road map.
Apparently I'm fun-impaired.
Kim and the girls took off on Friday for a weekend of camping with the Girl Scouts. The Girl Scouts are understandably wary of having adult men hanging around with all those sleeping young girls - we'd probably start in harping about zone defenses or Tom Clancy novels, and what good would that do? - so I stayed home. The bachelor life for me!
On the one hand, not being one with nature is not a mortal blow to my psyche.
On the other hand, the girls love it and so does Kim, and I am undeniably missing out on that. Oh well. When they come home we can do something fun that I like to do, such as ... well ... such as ... huh.
Fun-impaired it is.
Naturally, last night southern Wisconsin was hit by monstrous thunderstorms, complete with wind, lightning and the occasional farmhouse spinning merrily by, escorted by a green woman on a broom. Kim called this morning to say that they had made it through just fine, though without much sleep, and that they were headed out to a museum. Since this weekend is also the weekend when Wisconsin finally remembered that it is Summer, not April, and therefore ought to be Hot, Sticky and Uncomfortable, this was probably a good idea.
At least the rain cleared off.
As for me, well, the grocery store awaits. I know, I know - I am such the wild man.
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2 comments:
"Taking half of it back to the landfill. Finding that the landfill closed twelve minutes (twelve!) earlier," you say?
"Kid, we found your name on an envelope at the bottom of a half a ton of garbage, and just wanted to know if you had any information about it."
One big pile is almost always better than two little piles.
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