How many more Saturday Nights?

credit: 79sparrows
credit: 79sparrows

It’s Saturday night.

Did you know we only have about 3,900 Saturday nights in our lifetime?  I do, and ever since I learned this tidbit I think about it whenever I’m doing nothing on a Saturday night.  Like tonight.  A whole lotta nada.  Dog sitting, drinking Ketel One vodka mixed with cranberry juice, arguing with the silence.  The townhouse I’m in dogsitting all week is too quiet.  I usually don’t drink by myself, it’s just boring.  But try being confined in a small townhouse with 3 nervous Chihuahuas which I suspect may be haunted.  The house.  Not the Chihuahuas, although one of them is a grand disappointment to its own breed.   No more about him.

When I was 27, I went through a phase where I’d stay home every Saturday night and watch Cops and America’s Most Wanted.  I went through bags of sunflower seeds, seasoned  lavishly with Hidden Valley Ranch powder.  All my friends were out but I was happy at home for once, in a safe world of John Walsh being intense and scenic views  of  people being arrested from all over the country.

Sadly, I also used to work out on Saturdays.  This is what this post is really about, isn’t it?  My underlying feelings of extra largeness.  It’s clear as day It seems I gained weight over the past several weeks. Here we go again.  I hate it, yes I hate all the phases of  nothingness.  Genetics:  you are not so wonderful.

But really it doesn’t matter, not tonight.  How many Saturday nights remain?   Gotta go breathe  it in no matter what.  Wish I was in the desert, by the sea.  Not in DC.  Hasta Luego and have a great day.  Go look up at the stars.

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