I didn’t linger at work as I can sometimes do in the mornings. I told Derrick a quick goodbye after some scuttlebutt and a short conversation, and I was out the front door like a bolt of greased lightning.
“What’s the hurry?” George asked me with great interest as I bolted past him outside through the parking lot.
“I’m tired, hungry, and ready to go to bed,” I replied.
“Hey? I thought we we’re going to get prostitutes and beer later,” George quipped jokingly with his characteristic Cheshire grin.
I haven't been going to McDonald’s lately, but sincerely enjoyed the convenience of it today. I was suffering from severe thirst and was happy to get a gigantic extra large coke (what my father would call the big assed coke). I then drove by mom’s to pick up my cokes and cigarettes for the day. Luckily mom was awake and it didn’t take an army of banging drums to get her to the front door as she had forgotten to put them on the porch. Mom was in good spirits – glad my father only works till lunch on Saturdays. Dad says she will just sit around and watch him if he lets her and it makes me laugh every time.
“When did you get so tired of ice cream?” mom asked me worriedly this morning continuing a conversation we started last night.
“It just happened the other day,” I told her. “I bought a carton of vanilla and couldn’t finish it. I told you I would get tired of it eventually after an obsession like I was having with it.”
1 comments:
My son eats the same things every day. I don't know how he doesn't get burned out. Gotta love autism!
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