mornings

sleeping better now. spend the night on the couch, then transition to my bed around five or six in the morning, if i can.

imagine waking up to oldies blasting full volume. i mean, hear it outside blazing volume. i peek outside my door. a grizzled old man bobbing to the music, grinning ear to ear, talking nonstop to himself or the music, lost in a world of memories, hair in all directions. doesn't sound as bizarre as it looks. all the food from last night's dinner is on the counter, but that doesn't mean bacon isn't frying on the stove, with a red plastic cup just emptied of its latest drink playing sous chef. funny. and now that i am up...he has turned the music to an inaudible (for him) level and is working quiet as a mouse in the kitchen.

wait, he just came to my door. with a sly grin, he closes it. "reckon i've had enough. reckon i'd like to talk to myself." he is so ready to be home with his dogs. this is his celebration.