I'm a lucky woman. It's Friday afternoon, 4:00. The weather here in Las Vegas is sunny, and gorgeously warm as only late summer here can be. This kind of afternoon is what we dream of all through the insanely hot months of July and August.
So here I am at work, having done my part to turn the wheels of capitalism, and beside me is a cold bottle of beer. Yes, indeedy. Beer at work on a Friday afternoon is a joy that not many are able to experience, so I am extremely thankful.
In less than an hour (because I'll leave at 4:45, I think) I'll be home, where I'll open all the windows, turn on some music, and start cooking dinner for Captain Chicken Wing and myself. There will be more beer, maybe even wine or a cold vodka tonic. And then, we will drive off at sunset (not drunk, of course) in CCW's convertible to our favorite bar to watch the Dodgers/Giants game.
Tomorrow, I will sleep in.
This is a lovely life, especially at 4:00 on Friday, with the weekend's inaugural beer in hand.
4 comments:
And you're a Dodger fan, too. That's wonderful, sweet lady. I happen to live within the territory of the Satan-worshipping devilspawn, which makes life a bit tough at times.
I'm still tasting the acid from Gagne walking three in the bottom of the ninth with two out.
Ken
I'm still hoarse from Saturday's scream of horror at the Grand Slam. The dog went into hiding for a half hour.
Next Saturday, I'll be at Dodger Stadium within spitting distance of Barry Bonds. We'll see if my poor blue heart can take it.
Oh please make good on that "spitting distance" remark
If the game goes badly, I will pull that out of my arsenal. Especially if I've had enough draft beer and grilled Dodger dogs.
Draft beer and grilled Dodger dogs are essential to optimal mucal projection.
At the very least, I'll have to do some heckling.
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