Deserted Islands for Deserving Souls...

Last night found me sitting in my Lazy Boy after my father left. Cordless phone in hand, I was talking to Rosa. We still tease each other about getting back together. Frankly, I miss her. I miss her craziness. I miss her quirks. I also miss waking up to a warm body besides Maggie in my bed.

"Tell me about your day!" she asked.

"Oh, I fixed computers, played with Maggie, ate a good supper," I replied.

My response was very generic and I was careful not to mention the emotional outpouring between Dad and I. That would have immediately turned her mood sour. Will we ever get back together? I doubt it, but I haven't given up hope yet.

The phone call ended with her talking joyously of her new apartment.

"Having a working dishwasher is wondrous!" She exclaimed.

"What's Ferret been doing?" I then asked.

"I never see him," she said. "He stays gone all the time. He only has a mattress and a TV in that apartment, though."

I smiled. Ferret always loved living on the edge. Rosa and I said our goodnights and soon I was dosing off in my chair with a Model Railroader open in my lap. My age old ritual of washing my face and putting on my sleeping clothes commenced.

"Andrew, you look tired," I told myself as I stood in the mirror of my bathroom.

And I did. It was another exasperating day of emotional and human interaction. Other people stymie me. Their wants. Their desires. Their needs. I am still waiting on winning the lottery and buying me a small deserted island in the South Pacific. And that's not likely to happen.