George just disappeared. It has been three mornings since I've seen him. Pookie got out of jail and George went gallivanting through the underlife of our town. I know exactly what happened. George took Pookie to the crack house while he drank and she smoked up. All on George's money. She will no doubt steal his money again via his wallet after an amorous, but dangerous encounter de lah tey. I am sure Mrs. Jones is worried as am I. I hope he's going to work. It would be a disaster for him to lose that good paying job with Wal-Mart.
I am no stranger to such things. When I was married, I would get up some beer money and gather all my camping gear. I would head to our woods in God's country and go on a three or four day bender at my favorite spot in the piney woods of Alabama. I would just sit for days drinking copious amounts of beer and listening to talk radio. Rachel would somehow always find me and bring me home. So I understand George's thinking process right now.
We had a much ballyhooed cold front move through this morning with a whimper. I was getting my six Diet Cokes off of mom and dad's porch as it started to spit rain. The rain increased as I drove home and just quit. I looked at the radar online and the rain coverage looked kind of puny and pitiful. I was disappointed and wanted some more gully washers.
I stepped on the scales this morning and weighed 168 pounds. That the least I have weighed in decades. I am not intending to lose weight. I think it is my medications. I don't have much of an appetite and have to remind myself to eat. Dad said yesterday, "You're looking kind of skinny these days." They worry I am dabbling in my old nemesis eating disorders again.