Saturday, January 20, 2007
bachelor night, part 1
I have just returned from a bachelor night.
I sit and dine on a drive-thru-value-menu-fast-food dinner of a burger and fries and wash it down with a large Dr Pepper that came with the combo spiked with enough cheap vodka to cancel out the excessive syrupy sweetness of the beverage.
Despite my lonlieness, or mostly because of it, it has been a good night.
The Wife is hundreds of miles away, in the Flatlands, helping to care for her father. My father-in-law recently bet Mother Nature that he could get the Christmas lights off the roof before She belted our great state with an icy blast.
Yes, my dear reader, he lost that bet and is currently in hospital with, thankfully, only a few broken ribs.
The Wife flew out yesterday to help her mother care for him. As the months pass his body will recover. I fear the injury to his pride may prove to be terminal.
So The Wife's not here.
And as for The Boy. . .
Well, The Nurse volunteered to take him home with her for the night, so that he could spend some time playing with his best friends, her three boys starting at his age and going up every other year.
So somewhat blissfully and inebriatedly, and somewhat feeling lonely and depressed (an oxymoron indeed) I am half-past drunk at half-past midnight.
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I sit and dine on a drive-thru-value-menu-fast-food dinner of a burger and fries and wash it down with a large Dr Pepper that came with the combo spiked with enough cheap vodka to cancel out the excessive syrupy sweetness of the beverage.
Despite my lonlieness, or mostly because of it, it has been a good night.
The Wife is hundreds of miles away, in the Flatlands, helping to care for her father. My father-in-law recently bet Mother Nature that he could get the Christmas lights off the roof before She belted our great state with an icy blast.
Yes, my dear reader, he lost that bet and is currently in hospital with, thankfully, only a few broken ribs.
The Wife flew out yesterday to help her mother care for him. As the months pass his body will recover. I fear the injury to his pride may prove to be terminal.
So The Wife's not here.
And as for The Boy. . .
Well, The Nurse volunteered to take him home with her for the night, so that he could spend some time playing with his best friends, her three boys starting at his age and going up every other year.
So somewhat blissfully and inebriatedly, and somewhat feeling lonely and depressed (an oxymoron indeed) I am half-past drunk at half-past midnight.
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