Chapter 25

Good Evening,

Yes, it isn’t morning this time.  I had taken a nap yesterday, and there’s no rhyme or reason to it.  My little nap turned into about a 12 hour sleep.  Poor Jerry woke me up, and I have no idea how many times he’d tried.   For the most part, Jerry would rather chew off his arm as to take on that task.  I guess I can be a bit testy when my sleep is interrupted.  That’s what I’ve been told.  So, I’ve been up over 12 hours, and as tired as I am, I’m not sleepy.  So, if I follow the last couple of weeks of this sleep pattern, I’ll only get a couple of hours a night for 3-4 days, then on the fourth or fifth night I’ll crash and be out of it for another 12-18 hours. 

It just seemed to me that this week had really dragged on and on.  Then all of a sudden it was Thursday.  Today is Friday, and the weekend is here.  Temperatures have been in the upper 90s, and the lows have been in the 80s.    Oh, how I hate the summertime.  Missouri has the high temps and high humidity.  So, it’s muggy, or as was said from the great classic movie “Throw Mama from the train, “sultry.”

So, it looks like  I won’t be leaving the house often as long as it’s hot.  This will be enough to cause World War 3 here.  Mama has got to be Wal-Mart's biggest fan.  We have to go to that store at least once a week, and if Mama had her way, we’d be there 4-5 times a week.  Mama grew up very poor, as did most families from the ‘30s.  Even after she married my Dad, things still weren’t good.  Daddy made good money and he drank it up.  Mama had an Avon route that barely paid the bills and put food on the table.  She’s always worked hard, physically and mentally.  So. if there’s anything she wants, I encourage her to get it, which has now given us the beginning of a mini-hoarder episode.  Most of my things are still in the garage packed in cardboard boxes.  I guess since I haven’t seen my things in all those years, I should be able to get rid of it, but there are so many pretty things I haven’t had a place to show them off.  Of course, when Jerry reads this you all may want to call 9-1-1.  I’m sure he’ll do 1 of 2 things—he’ll either hold his breath ‘til he passes out or #2, laugh ‘til he’s rolling around the yard like a goof ball.  {Editor’s Note: I actually started feeling real sorry for myself, but my wife doesn’t need to know that.  So, let’s keep it between us—okay?}

I need to get with it before I lose any motivation to get rid of stuff.  Can’t wait to the see joy on this happy little face.  {Didn’t happen.}

CYA,

Arlynda