Folks, I am having the kind of morning where parts of you are awake and parts of you are asleep. I have been up since seven or so, I think, and yet, here it is almost noon and I’m still in my pajamas sitting on the couch, listening to the dog snore.
Every once in a while, I stare off into space and I suddenly realize ten minutes have passed.
What, you may ask, accounts for my bout of decadent laziness?
Because someone decided that the funnest way we could spend the afternoon was by imbibing in the fermented sap of the blue agave plant and someone else encouraged him and I, not wanting to be impolite, joined in.
For those of you looking for a fun get-away, Mack has a little cabin on his property where you can stay and get away from it all, and, if you ask nicely, he’ll put you in his truck and drive you all over tarnation while you try not to spill your beer on yourself.
I’m thinking of writing a book about a state legislator who is having a scandalous affair with a Ku Klux Klan member in his district kind of along the lines of A Confederacy of Dunces but with less hot dogs. I may impose on Mack’s cabin as a little writers’ retreat as I work, should I start work, which will not happen today.