O.K. Nothing creepy about that.
I just "ran" home in front of the impending storm. I was sitting outside smoking the end of last night's cigar and drinking the more expensive scotch I bought myself for Christmas when I decided to take a walk and see the Christmas Eve lights. I walked further than I intended to an old friend's house, The Twins. We spoke for a minute and one of them said, "You'd better get home. That's the edge of the storm there." Just then I got hit by a few big drops of rain. I walked faster than I usually walk, a version that belongs in the "Museum of Silly Walks" all the way home. I made it just in time. The wind is gusting and sirens are already sounding. I hope Santa takes care.
I went out to climb stairs today. I do an outside stairwell near the exercise course I have done for thirty years. Nobody is ever there. But when I began, there was a bum sleeping on the middle landing. He was dead asleep on a light blanket, and beside him lay an iPhone. WTF? I thought about telling him to leave. I walked up and down the stairwell a few times sure I would catch his Covid. Then I thought again. Jesus. It was Christmas Eve and this fellow had it worse than I, and here I was ready to give him the bum's rush. I'm an asshole, I thought, and it is true. There was another staircase on the other side of the highway, so I walked over and did my exercises there.
I am an asshole whiner, but I catch myself from time to time,.
I lost a girl last Christmas. I lost a cat today. She did not show up for breakfast or for lunch though her boyfriend was here for both, I worry that something has gotten her. I worry that she is gone. She has begun to trust me more, but she has never loved me. There is a wild look in her eye that will never let her get that close. She could have been a domestic cat, but she chose to live a wilder life. When I think of her gone, I think of that wild look in her eye. Then I think of Ili. The look was much the same. I think she was the opposite of the cat. She loved me but never trusted me.
This is the first Christmas Eve since 1990 that I have not met up with the group of orphans and miscreants on the Boulevard. It would be crazy, I think, to get Covid now after sequestering for a year only to die a month before getting the vaccine. I've decided that I will redouble my efforts to stay safe until I get inoculated. I can't wait to sleep in a hotel again.
I went to my mother's tonight to have some champagne and to exchange gifts. I realized that I do not really like champagne. Perhaps if I were drinking Cristal. . . but I doubt it. There is too much sugar for me, or so it seems. I like the "slap on the back" more than "a mist before the eyes." You'll recognize those lines if you have watched "The Philadelphia Story" more than once.
When I got home, I made a dinner of ribeye, baked potato, and sautéed spinach. So-so. Now it is getting toward bedtime. I may watch "A Very Murray Christmas" first, but we shall see.
It has been a horrible year for everyone. I'm hoping to live again soon. We all are. I know this is more like a form letter than real writing, but it will take me a bit to get back into form. And so, to all of you. . . I wish you the best Christmas possible. And thus, goodnight.