I picked up Miss Lisa at 10:30 last night up in Sacramento and then from there we went to one of the hospitals there to see her son. She had gotten word the day before that he'd been hospitalized with respiratory problems, and being a mama she had to make sure he was all right.
We make it home by 2:30 AM. When she walked in the door she was fairly surprised as to the cleanliness of the house, but knowing at the same time that it was all done in the previous 24 hours.
She sits down in her chair and starts laughing, then gets up and writes something in the dust that was on the TV table and stand. The one fucking piece of furniture that I overlooked......
"Can you see what I did?" she wants to know.
She wants to be a smartass? I can play, too.
I peer over there. "No, I can see writing but I can't read it on account of the ridges the dust pushed up."
But yeah, it was good to get her home and all to myself. For a minute.
Up at 9 AM all blurry eyed, I stagger into the living room. She's on the phone.
"Art's getting discharged this afternoon at 2 and he needs a place to lay up while he recovers." Big brown pleading eyes.
Off to breakfast and then off to Sacra-fucking-mento (I'm beginning to hate that damned town) and 4 miles of downtown traffic we go. Snatched Art and hit the road back home, getting here about 4:30.
But now I'm out of the shower, in my Camouflage Bass Pro Easy Chair and Lisa is in the kitchen fixing our supper.