A dark house

I have always taken it for granted that a house would be dark at night, but many times in the past years since younger generations have been living with me, lights have often been left on. I don’t like to wake up to a house and find lights brightly burning, but that has often been the case. Lately, though, there has been a trend toward the house being darkened at night  . . .  and it feels so peaceful. Of course, I am not sitting here in the dark; I am sitting in a puddle of light because in the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse we like the shank of the evening to have a glow on.

UPDATE: Uh, this isn’t a true update; I started out to talk about Summer and I having a competitive weight loss campaign but somehow it slipped to the back of my mind. So here it is: Summer and I are writing our weights down every morning for a month. She is waiting on me so I won’t expend any more calories than I absolutely have to. This could get interesting.

Old lady

I have been thinking about the movie Five Graves to Cairo lately. Tonight I turned on the TV to Turner Classic Movies and there it was, starting. I called Der Bingle and told him and then I started to watch. I thought, “Oh, heck, I’ll just lie down and turn the light off and watch . . . “; I fell asleep. I woke up when the clock out here chimed 12, which meant it was 11 since it has gotten out of synch and I am thinking that Daylight Savings Time is coming up anyway. For Heavens Sake, this is disheartening.

Then I remembered I hadn’t taken my medicine and so I did; Sydney wanted to go out and he got the whiff of a strange animal and after he came back in, he determined he just HAD to go back out. He wandered around forever and just as I was ready to march out and grab him, the neighbor’s security light went off and I didn’t have the heart to trigger it back on.  Finally he showed up and I sat down to finish this post and now I hear him nuzzling a treat out of a bag.

Oh, Jeez, it was one of the pouches with the resealable opening and he was rapidly eating into the seal . . . and beyond. He is supposed to be an Australian Shepherd – they obey the rules. They insist on rules; Miss Alice used to turn herself in when she broke one. And he’s doing this.

He probably heard me snoring during Five Graves to Cairo and figured if I was that old, he must be getting up there and could start tweaking the protocols.

We stare at each other and I have a feeling we are thinking the same thing because he is rolling his eyes at me and dog sighing.