Gotta Have that Sausage Biscuit...

Charlie was telling me this morning that Horsefly had to have a sausage biscuit every day for breakfast or he will pitch a temper tantrum. I did not know this. Charlie has to be at work at 10am eastern time. I can imagine Charlie scrambling to McDonald's, ordering some sausage biscuits, and returning home to give Horsefly his sausage biscuit torn into tiny pieces so he won't choke. Charlie then has an hour commute to Dadeville and his job.

"They all know me on a first-name basis I go to McDonald's so much," Charlie said with a chuckle.

I also had one last mangled lamp that badly needed a lamp shade (another casualty from my heavy drinking past) and Charlie brought it this morning. I had a penchant for knocking over lamps as I drunkenly stumbled to turn them on or off. It was almost comical in a way.

You know what seems really strange to me? It's how Charlie's wife never takes an active role in the care of Horsefly. The kicker? She is retired from working many years with mentally retarded people.