Still At the Ranch

Tonight is our 7th day left on the mainland. And possibly the first day I've actually considered just going back home. 

The large portion of the day was a waste. Over wine consumption combined with a terrible nights rest resulted in a late waking. I ended up on the couch some time around 3 am. Our air mattress was sabotaged by the house cat, after 3 months of loyal service. We awoke on a wave of deflated plastic. Too late and too noisy to keep refilling. I tried of course but immediately got scolded, so I went straight to the couch. I hate being scolded. My return to the bed in the later morning was really for only one reason, which was shot down. Apparently that happened the night before, I missed it. I hate it when I lose memory. It happens too often. And the sex doesn't these days. There's not much privacy here, and a child. So gone are our days of grilled cheese served post orgasm by best friend roommates.

We watched an entire movie while drinking coffee. I made guac. Danny started a pot roast. I don't think I left the house until sunset. I stomp around the property trying not to cry about whatever tone has just pissed me off from Danny the D'. I hate watching movies. Especially more than one per day. We were on our 4th or 5th lengthy feature film. I guess I ask too many questions. So instead of bothering everyone with my speaking and inquiring about the stupidity of the new Ninja Turtle movie, I hike around the property in search of the mountain lion cat that is supposed to be around with a cub or two. 

I've always envisioned my life ending via mountain cat devouring. Excitement was in the air. I considered my options for fight should I happen to make the encounter. Surely I'm going to try to take a photo. Surely it will be blurry. I wonder if my Coors Light can will be of any diversion to the cat. If I throw it, will it be scared and run off? Or will it ignite its anger inducing a full on attack? I didn't see the cat, but a few bucks were scared shitless as I shuffled down the gravel road. 

The entire exchange reminds of the time I got mad at my parents and stormed off at night. Armed only with a walk man, I listened to Janies' Got A Gun over and over. Screaming "Run away run away" as I made laps around the duck pound in the neighboring apartment complex. When I finally decide to return I'm rather disappointed that no one even noticed my absence. 

In the present I suppose I take some comfort when Danny asked where I went to and said he missed me as he leaned over to kiss me. Naturally ignored him and continue to stay tucked behind the truck.

"Pity party of one. Now seating." Says the hostess. "I'm not hungry." I tell her. 

I end the day defacing a poster of four puppies with black sharpie with a ten year old. Mustaches all around. One had a top hat. One was a clown. The child's mind entertains me greatly. 

I think she stole my sharpie. . .