Somehow, in a way that I won't elaborate on right now, I got myself into the dog house. I know it's hard to believe, but I did it. This particular friend that was the lady that declared me "into the dog house" is fond of flowers, go figure. I decided that as a gesture of good will, I would buy flowers for said friend.
I went to my special flower selling store, Fry's and purchased a dozen of their finest long stem roses, that my friend usually cuts the stems off of anyway. I chose a nice dozen and brought them to the cashier. Here is where things get complicated. My cashier, a gentleman in his mid to late fifties with gray hair and sideburns and that late fifty look of fatty tissue on his face, turned out to be a woman. I almost swallowed my gum when he/she asked me for my VIP card using a woman's voice. Being the type that takes things like this in stride, I casually answered yes, here it is. The cashier replied, "groovy". I now was even more shocked, as I hadn't heard that expression since 1980 and told her/him. He/she said he/she uses that word everyday and I told her/him how refreshing it was (it wasn't). I think we bonded, wink!
That brings us up to the current time of about 10 PM, when I received an email from my friend saying she was sorry about today and that she was watching, "Tell Me You Love Me" on HBO. Since that show was JUST over, I felt it was safe to call without awakening her. When I did she answered in a groggy sleepy voice, good morning! She really thought it was morning, as I usually give her a wake up call. I started apologizing again, stepping back into the forever present, dog house. I tried to explain that it was only 10 PM and it was the night before and I woke her up. I asked her if she would rather go back to sleep as opposed to talking to me and she said, goodnight. I hope there's a blanket in that dog house, it's supposed to cold tonight!
Having told that story, it reminds me of something that occurred in late 1966. I was about 20 years old and had just purchased a 1967 Chevelle Malibu convertible with the 396 motor. Man, that thing was fast. My friend Al Mitofsky had just bought a 1966 Olds 442 and we decided to drive our 2 cars to Florida, drag racing all of the way. After driving for about 18 hours, I was dead tired and talked Al into stopping to get a few winks. We rented a motel room somewhere along the Interstate. I crawled into my bed like I had just found an old friend and fell immediately asleep. We had set the alarm for about 5 hours of sleep as Al was very anxious to get back on the road.
When the alarm went off, I crawled out of bed and staggered to the shower, feeling hardly rested, but I knew I'd be fine after getting a cup of coffee. Al insisted on starting out early and stopping on the road somewhere to even get coffee. Since he had agreed to stop and spend the night, I agreed to waiting for the coffee, in spite of the fact that it was only 5 AM and still dark. When we entered some old coffee shop on the Interstate and sat down and ordered the coffees, I looked up at the clock and it read 1 AM, only one hour since we checked into the Motel. with my mouth agape, I looked at Al who was already out the door and into his car, laughing his head off! You know I never trusted Al again!