I'm sitting in the mancave on a quiet afternoon. The garage door is wide open and all movement catches my eye. I spotted someone walking from the adjacent building towards the trash bin with an armload of stuff, so I jumped up and met them at the dumpster, holding the lid up. It's a pain if you don't have help.
It was a nice lady who mentioned she just had her 60th birthday party, and I mentioned I just had my 78th. She was nice, pretty, and it makes me wonder if I'll ever have a woman in my life again.
I don't think I have it anymore. For one thing, I'm too fucking old. Who the hell would want to hang with a guy that's going to be eighty in two years?
So, what do I do? Survive? Yea I can do that. Thanks to my grand-daughter Shelby I have a wonderful home in Pensacola, FL. She's on a roadtrip south for a few days and I have the place to myself.