A glass of Merlot, a jazz CD, and a quiet night.
That's what I was faced with tonight. Should have been inspirational but it wasn't.
All I could think about as I sat down to write was the missing element. The guy I wished was here beside me. The guy who just some how keeps me on a thread of hope. Mr. Scratchy.
Here I am, the middle of the night once more and as usual unable to sleep. The sounds of the neighbourhood returning from the bars and the snow plows outside. Isn't winter a strange season? Not even pitch dark nights and -23c can keep some people from socializing.
Nor does it keep the hookers from working, as it seems the back lane behind our building is a favourite spot for them to do so. I can't tell you how often over the years, I've taken the trash out in the mornings to find a scattering of used condoms on the ground behind the garbage shed.
I don't know if you're catching this after you get in from your own life, a cup of tea in hand, in those pajama bottoms that I believe are plaid, maybe a faded tee with a ripped shoulder; as you wind down before bed. Or if you are catching this in the morning first thing, with a coffee beside you, your hair sticking up, not yet shaved and undecided if you're having fruity-o's or rice crisps for breakfast. I just hope I bring a smirk to your face for a bit every day. Not a full smile, just a smirk as a smirk is more effective. That's not totally true, I do want to bring a smile to your face.
If you are reading this before you start your day heading to work or to the gym or just out, and you find yourself suddenly hearing the Journey song "Don't Stop Believing" you're going to laugh and smirk and think of nothing but this post. And maybe I'll have brought a smile to your face for a bit today.
Till later Mr. Scratchy
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