Sentry Duty, Part II

This was me this morning, peeking in on The Daddler. I guess it's a good thing that he doesn't snore, but it makes my job harder. In fact, he doesn't make a sound when he sleeps. I can't even see his chest moving because he sleeps in a fetal position. Reminds me of a little kid. I stop short of holding a mirror in front of his nose because he startles easily. That would be kind of counter-productive. I'd hate to be the one to trigger a cardio-infarction (technical name for heart attack).

Sometimes, if I walk into the living room too briskly, shouting something (he's hard of hearing), I swear he jumps three feet out of his recliner. You should've seen him the day I forgot to use conditioner and walked in with my hair fresh out of the towel looking a tangled Tina Turner.

That reminds me. After having my day derailed yesterday, and not getting a chance to run the last few days, I had a little excess energy last night. So I cranked up the radio and started dancing around the den. The D walked past and saw me. He made the worst face and said, "What's wrong with you?" Ouch. I told him I was exercising since it had been too hot to go running. And I started pretending to jump rope. He shook his head and walked away. Kind of the same way he did when I backed my car into the house. And when I was in college and came flying under the carport in my yellow Rabbit (remember those?) and hit the wooden post at the corner and knocked it down completely. He and Mother were puttering around outside. It's pretty funny when you think about it. Mother and I always laughed about it.

We laughed about lots of my dumb stunts. One of the funniest was when The D, Mother, Deb and I were heading to Myrtle Beach to see my brother when he finished basic training. I was about 15 years old, I suppose. We were crammed into the cab of D's truck. There was a camper in the back - one of those that fits into the bed of the truck. We slept (or tried to, in my case) in that tin can in the middle of the summer in South Carolina. But that's another story. What I'm getting to is what happened when we stopped in Cookville for some famed Holiday Inn buffet. I'm sure my legs were numb from being compressed between my mother and the door. So when we pulled up to the Mecca of Buffets, I opened the door to the truck and rolled right out onto the pavement. They laughed a little too hard and way too long. Many years, in fact. Mother called me Grace from time to time.

Well, The D just emerged from his room. He seems fine. I, on the other hand, am not so great. Didn't sleep a wink. Because that's frowned up when you're on sentry duty.