Squirrely

All evening I've had this desire to fill that empty space with WHATEVER, SOMETHING. And I don't really know what it's from. Looking forward to my meeting tomorrow morning though.

So on the drive back from my lovely neighborhood Target, I passed the local bar, the only one I think in Marion. The Wave. That squirrely part of me wants to pull in. I know a bunch of other teachers frequent the place. It's one of those bars that's part dive, part sports pub, part yuppie watering hole.

I hope I never set foot in there. Places like that are Hell to me now. Like the Kettle Ho in Cotuit. I recoiled, as if from a flame, to paraphrase the ole Big Book. Though I'm still a bit irritable and discontent, I'm sure happy that I'm not in there listening to some wombat repeat himself.

It's a good night to be sober, what with the full moon and all.

And maybe that's it. Maybe it's the tug of the moon. It used to affect me something fierce. Man, I'd get bent by the light of La Luna. Always an excuse for a bender. I hardly notice it now, but I bet that's wherefrom the squirrelness comes.