It is very early in the morning. A full moon hangs high in the sky adorned by puffy cumulus clouds; harbingers of tomorrows predicted thunderstorms; a good sign that there is ample moisture in the upper atmosphere. The last of the katydids are making their furtive calls to mate before ceasing for the night as dawn approaches. That sound is so comforting to me. It is a beautiful Southern night.
As usual, I am up with the denizens of the evening with Maggie lying at my feet scratching at her fleas. The smell of a fresh brewed pot of coffee wafts into my den from the kitchen. I woke up with the worst night sweats and am waiting for my sheets and pillows to once again dry before returning to bed. I really shouldn’t be drinking that coffee, but its allure was just too enticing.
I thought long and hard how to respond to Pipe Tobacco’s comment on his definition of addiction, but couldn’t come up with an adequate response. I have often struggled with how the term “addiction” applies to me. I do know that Sherman has long had a history of legal entanglements regarding his drinking and this is a good sign that there is a problem. He has consistently put others in harm’s way through his drinking and driving “habit” we shall say for lack of a better term. That is good enough reason, for me, for him to lay off the booze as he just doesn’t use better judgment when he is drunk. Those notions of the affable and buffoon-like jolly town drunk like Otis of The Andy Griffith Show fame, which often brings to mind Sherman for me, lose their allure in this modern day and age with so much legality surrounding the issue of drinking in a public setting (holy run-on sentence, Batman!).
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