I ate breakfast with George and his mom this morning. Mrs. Jones had prepared a hashbrown casserole and fried bacon.
"Why do black people in the South go to church so long?" I asked Mrs. Jones.
Main service can often last for 3 hours or more.
"They didn't have anything better to do back then," she said with a smile. "Some things just stay the same even after time."
I left George's house and headed to mom and dad's a few blocks over. I needed to get my daily allotment of caffeine. Dad and Charlie were eating a McDonald's breakfast on the back deck. Dad looked like he had been playing in the dirt he was so dirty from yard work. Charlie offered up the idea that I do physical therapy when dad comes every night with my medications. I have some of the resistance bands at home.
"I don't know," I said apprehensively.
"You about fell walking up the steps," dad quipped.
"We'll give a try I guess," I finally muttered with little zeal.
Maggie's in the bed today. I guess it's just one of those dog days of summer best slept away. If I could sleep, then I would be in the bed with her. She looks so comfortable.