Tuesday, January 22, 2019
Mrs ERJ is away. She is visiting a friend from college days. Back then, they discovered they were dating the same boy, a boy who claimed to be dating them exclusively. They sought each other out and had a long talk. They dumped the boy and have been friends and allies ever since.
That leaves me at home. Alone.
Maybe not alone. The dogs are with me.
Just think of all that male energy! Two hundred pounds of German Shepherd, a Boston Terrier and two hundred pounds of me.
Unfettered by the benevolent bonds of the fairer sex we revel in our toxic masculinity like dogs rolling in a stinky carcass.
I leave the toilet seat up.
I sneer at healthy foods. Baked beans replete with onions and garlic and spicy, pork sausage ladled over white potatoes. Not a green vegetable in sight. TWO --- count them --- TWO bottles of strong IPA to wash it down.
Dessert was pecans and dark chocolate.
Such foods would normally result in Mrs ERJ suggesting that I sleep in the living room as the oligosaccharides from the beans and sulfurous contributions from the onions and garlic combine in my lower bowel to produce the biological equivalent of phosgene or mustard gas.
The irony is that I will probably spend the night on the couch in the living room anyway.
Dogs make good company, even if it is just the sound of their breathing.