It’s happening again.
I’m alone all night because My Captain is working at the fire station, and my Varmint and my Critter are at their father’s house for the evening. I should be happy because I know My Captain is at one of his favorite places in the whole wide world, and my children are with their beloved Daddy, being loved and loving him back. So everyone should be happy.
Even I have no right to complain. I am snug as a bug in a rug, in my cozy little cottage, with my weird kitties, who are shredding my Value City Furniture as we speak.
But as often as this kind of evening happens, so does this typical scenario: First, I get bored without instantly-gratifying, people-oriented stimulation.
So I turn to the fridge, which inevitably disappoints me.
Then I turn to the boxes of decade-old, partially-petrified, Halloween and Valentine’s Day candy under my kids’ beds, which is never satisfying, since I’ve already picked through them THOROUGHLY.
Then I turn on my computer and surf Facebook, usually ending up with a sense of disappointment in my fellow Americans, and society in general.
Exasperated, usually I then turn to the news, and my disappointment takes a hard left into alarm and anxiety about the future of the human race.
This then leads me to turn all of that stuff off, and I start looking through the old pictures on my hard drive.
THIS is where I begin to fall apart, because I’m a sentimental mush-ball, lacking the common sense to just go to bed.
So I’m at this point this evening, and was looking at this series of shots My Captain took surreptitiously while My Varmint and I were walking down the beach at Pop-Pop’s cottage just last weekend.
He had put his camera down low on the sand to give it an artsy-fartsy perspective.
I find his artsy-fartsy perspective to be more aptly defined as the big-butt perspective.
Anyway, I scrolled down the photos and came across this old one.
My Varmint and Critter….when was it? I’m sure it was only yesterday.
After I cried into about a box of Kleenex at the passing of time, I realized it might be better for my mental and emotional health if, on lonely nights such as this, I did not turn on my computer, but instead ended the evening at the ‘dive head-first into the candy boxes under the bed’ stage.
It might be healthier for me, is all I’m saying.
And we’d save a bundle on Kleenex.