Jesus
, I thought, what self-pitying bullshit. Or else a sober assessment of the life I’d created for myself. One thing I knew for sure. After a couple Scotches, a week’s worth of inadequate sleep, and a brush or two with imminent death, the last thing I should be doing at that moment was making any judgments. About anything.
So instead I got up, finished my drink, and went back inside the house. Shut off the music, killed the lights, and checked the locks. Grateful suddenly for the easy sameness, the unvarying routine.
Then I undressed, climbed into bed, and fell into a long, dreamless sleep.
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