Ferret was drunk today. What is about the holidays that brings on the worst in us mentally ill people? I can honestly say, though, that my anxiety attacks have cured me of my urge to drink.
"Just be glad you are not sleeping in a garage," Ferret told me after I told him my tale of woe about my car getting stolen.
"You're right," I said. "I am truly lucky."
"Not too many dads are going to be buyin' their son a house," Ferret replied, slurring his words. "I wish I had a house. I sleep in a damp garage."
Big storms were predicated to roll in this afternoon. I had even heard reports of tornado warnings.
"Why don't you walk on home?" I asked Ferret as he cracked open another "tall boy" beer. "The weather is supposed to get bad."
"Nah," Ferret said, drinking. "I don't want to have to sit with nothing to do at home. I would rather be down here."
I left Ferret to drink his beer as I walked on home. When I arrived home and looked at the radar online, I had made it home in the nick of time. The heavens were about to open up. I can only imagine Ferret under the awning at the shopping center trying to stay dry and not get struck by lightning.