Bitter Cold

I am up with the crows as my grandmother used to say. It is 3:48 a.m. and a bitterly cold morning. The temperature is 26 degrees (-4 Celsius). The cold pours off my rather large and drafty windows and causes me to run my gas heater on high constantly. I also have a small floor heater that I run next to my feet to keep them toasty warm as I sit at this computer. I shudder to think what my heating costs are going to be this winter.

George came by my house last night. This is something he rarely does as I dissuade him from doing so. I worry that the riff raff of the Piggly Wiggly will get to be a constant figure at this house. He brought me a twelve pack of ice beer and a pack of Swisher Sweet cigarillos. He was genuinely concerned about me after our talk about me living in my car the other day. We sat in my den drinking beer and smoking as we talked. I try not to smoke inside, but made an exception last night due to the cold. We used discarded cans of beer as an ash tray.

George kept trying to persuade me to go over with him to a lady named Pookie’s house. He wanted us to play cards and get drunk. He also said that Pookie thought I was cute and wanted to be with a white man. He said she wanted to “fuck my brains out.” I have met Pookie a few times when George has given her rides to the Piggly Wiggly. She is a very obese black lady. Not my idea for a “hot date” as George alluded to. He means well though. He is baffled by my abstention from sex.

When George had come over, I had been cooking cubed steak with gravy. I had also made a pan of biscuits and a pot of broccoli. After we had both consumed some beers and cigarillos, I offered George some supper. We sat at my kitchen table eating. George told me that was some of the best cubed steak he had ever eaten. He passed on the broccoli though. I love broccoli with lots of lemon juice and butter. George was surprised that this “white boy” could cook.