I managed to eat breakfast with Mrs. Florene and George before the rain started. Mrs. Florene was cooking, George was watching the morning news in the den, and I was sitting at the kitchen table.
"He didn't come home at all last night," Mrs. Jones said of George as she fried some bacon.
"He was at the shot house playing poker," I replied.
Mrs. Jones grumbled and mumbled something under her breath that I couldn't hear.
Soon, we sat down for breakfast. My favorite thing was the grits. They were so buttery and creamy. It takes a real knack for Southern food to cook good grits. Most people's grits are runny and watery. Like what you would get at the Waffle House.
Mrs. Jones fixed an extra paper plate of food for Maggie which I appreciated and which Maggie devoured when I got home. I've given up on just feeding her Purina One. She won't eat it and will just starve. She is so stubborn.
Helen came by the house before work. She was running extra late and was in a hurry.
"Your daddy's gonna jump all over me when your mother tells him what time I got there today," she told me. "Here's some fresh Tuna fish salad. My husband won't eat it."
What a nice thing! I love tuna fish sandwiches and Helen makes the best Tuna salad. My day was set with lots of good food, good drinks, ample cigarettes, and a torrential rain falling out my windows. It is going to be a good day. I can just feel it.