I'm sitting in a Best Western Inn in Rockford, Illinois watching my husband watch a Roy Rogers movie. They have a bar downstairs called the Tilted Kilt and the waiters wear kilts with nary a tilt in sight. I'm thinking of occupying one of their bar stools and ordering a margarita as I wait for the pool to clear of screaming children, it's check-out time, they need to leave. Decisions, decisions and vacation is so tough.
We weren't supposed to be here at all. The initial plan was to leave town in two days arriving at this city's airport to catch a jet to Ocho Rios. But a massive ice storm has been threatening and who wants to miss their Jamaican trip because they thumbed their noses at the fickle gods of weather and had to remain housebound due to the inch of ice coating the world out there. The big guy's retirement party ended last night, we went home, packed up and hit the road not even opening the retirement gifts. Well, he opened the package with the fishing pole in it because we couldn't imagine what the heckle jeckle it was. It was shaped like an assault weapon was my thought, that term swirling around in my brain with our current state of national unrest. I did say that out loud and one wife guest said, "oh, that would have been a gift for YOU," referring to the sad state of my current status, an unemployed husband in my home, in my way, eating up my precious solitude. I know, I know, it'll be fine.
Kinda nifty doing something impulsive for a change, haven't done that in forever. Flying down the highway with a generous addition of Kessler's in my McDonald's large diet past the black cornfields the only lights being barn yard globes, the farmers all tucked in bed waiting for the early morning milking call.
My sister-in-law calls, you coulda stayed in town another day, nothing happening here yet. Yeah, Rita I could be home cleaning my house, cooking yet another fish stick supper and picking up his Highness's underwear.
I think I'm having fun.
We weren't supposed to be here at all. The initial plan was to leave town in two days arriving at this city's airport to catch a jet to Ocho Rios. But a massive ice storm has been threatening and who wants to miss their Jamaican trip because they thumbed their noses at the fickle gods of weather and had to remain housebound due to the inch of ice coating the world out there. The big guy's retirement party ended last night, we went home, packed up and hit the road not even opening the retirement gifts. Well, he opened the package with the fishing pole in it because we couldn't imagine what the heckle jeckle it was. It was shaped like an assault weapon was my thought, that term swirling around in my brain with our current state of national unrest. I did say that out loud and one wife guest said, "oh, that would have been a gift for YOU," referring to the sad state of my current status, an unemployed husband in my home, in my way, eating up my precious solitude. I know, I know, it'll be fine.
Kinda nifty doing something impulsive for a change, haven't done that in forever. Flying down the highway with a generous addition of Kessler's in my McDonald's large diet past the black cornfields the only lights being barn yard globes, the farmers all tucked in bed waiting for the early morning milking call.
My sister-in-law calls, you coulda stayed in town another day, nothing happening here yet. Yeah, Rita I could be home cleaning my house, cooking yet another fish stick supper and picking up his Highness's underwear.
I think I'm having fun.
2 comments:
The last week or so, I've been working twelve-hour days. So that margarita sounds like a great idea.
Have a margarita already and don't work so many hours, smile.
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