It's a brisk Sunday evening. Dusk outside. Temperatures are dropping like Obama's poll numbers, but me and Murphy are doing just fine. The stove's lit for the first time this year and I'm on the couch, reading my newest H. Rider Haggard acquisition with a mug of steaming hot tea. And Murphy? He's simply enjoying the stove, just like Lagniappe used to.
Funny how new things can stir old memories and automatically bring a smile.
All y'all have a nice night.