George was sitting out on his carport with nothing but a pair of shorts on. He was making use of this pleasant and mild day. It really has been a beautiful day. I had just gotten back from my father’s house to pick up some homemade egg salad.
“I can’t hear your music anymore,” George said with a grin. “Thank you. I am actually pretty hard of hearing.”
“Gosh,” I thought to myself. “I must’ve been really loud.”
“Do you stay up nights?” George then asked me.
“Actually, I am sleeping from eleven to around eight or nine in the morning at the moment,” I told George.
George said he goes to bed at nine and gets up at six in the morning.
I just left it at that and didn’t ask why he wanted to know. It maybe because I keep a lamp burning in every room at night due to rat trauma.
I saw Charles, the pest control guy, at dad’s when I was over there. He was spraying the house precautionarily for bugs. I asked him to come and put out some more bait bags. He said he would gladly swing by my house the first of next week.
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