First off, dinner! A fine meal of Tostitos, cheese and crackers, Hershey's Kisses, and beer. Mmm, mm, mmm. Not just delicious but vegetarian to boot. So it must be healthy.
Next, dogwalk. The pooch is still in training, so kudos to the little furball for keeping a clean floor while left alone. So, outside to "walk" with plastic bags and reward treats in hand. Mission accomplished. All systems are go.
The pup has been a huge addition to the family. Huge. Even though he himself is quite small. His arrival was anticipated for years by Mom and Dad, and for months by his two human brothers. Once the announcement was made, a flurry of little boy discussion followed, along with a surprisingly long series of dog movie picks for Friday night movie night. Dog movies are very funny. They really are.
Next up for Dad, work! There's a recession on you know, so working hard is very in vogue. Natch I accomplish about 20% of what I had hoped to get done. Because now the dog is throwing up. Uh oh.
I see what appears to be "not food." Don't know if this is good or bad. Thinking quickly and without any knowledge or expertise whatsoever, I act decisively. I give him water. Then, off on another dog walk. Things continue with the doggie illness for awhile but then calm down. We clean up everything, run laundry and settle down with another beer and some tv.
Remember that old Springsteen song, 57 Channels And Nothing On. I don't even know how many channels we have now, but the Friday night pickings were pathetic. Even CNBC and C-Span were showing infomercials. Made me wish I had some actual human friends in the area. There were ads for "live chat" with young ladies who were just waiting for my call. Frankly the ads are not very alluring. But I suddenly and sadly realize that I have become their target audience. All dressed up and no place to go. Except I'm in pajamas.
Only two friends in town, a dog and a tv, and one is throwing up and the other is boring me to tears. I briefly wonder how much the chat costs.
Maybe I should go out? I somehow have the feeling that I'm not allowed. There is a new movie theater up the road, but that's about the extent of my options. My brain is too tired to work. And I'm afraid to leave the dog. So it's off to bed with my Churchill book. Ah, Winston, my perfect bedmate. And I mean that literarily.
Saturday! Let's party! Except I have to finish the work that didn't get done yesterday and fedex it by noon. Crapola, because I am not a morning person. But . . . type, fill out forms, make copies, drive around . . . all done! The dog seems better, too.
OK, let the weekend bachelor fun start now! There's still lots of time and fun stuff to do. Like, uh, mowing the lawn, which has weeds up as high as my knees. First time this year, so dig out the lawn mower. Natch there's no gas, so off to the BP. Four hours later the lawn looks better and I am a middle aged hunk of hay fever. Achoooo! So, taking whatever meds happen to be in the house, it's dogwalk time again. This turns out to be the high point of my weekend. We do 2 miles, which is real exercise for me. I feel good about that. Feeling good can spread, so I decide no more tv for the weekend. This means that I eat dinner (ham & cheese sandwich) outside instead of in front of the boob tube. Man it is really nice out! Spring is here, birds are chirping, sun is going down, stars are coming out. This is actually better than tv! I talk to my neighbors, who are putting in a little garden wall. Human contact. Thanks goodness. I soak it up like a dry sponge.
It's nighttime and the dog wants to watch tv. This is his normal time at the end of the day with Mom when he gets to climb all over the furniture. It's hard to say no to a puppy, so we watch The Daily Show while he crawls all over me. Then it's another dogwalk and off to bed for both of us.
I really can't wait for my family to come home.