Saturday nights are when I feel the most uncool. Blogger-buddy Eric asked me what I typically do on Saturday night. Answer: I dictate charts and do housework tasks. I surf the internet; I read blogs.  Sometimes I chat with Scruff buddies.  Someone watches TV and usually falls asleep in front of it.

Reprobate living, at its worst.

I imagine everybody is out making merry at those parties I was not invited to attend. If they are not at parties, they are in the pubs, roaring with laughter over their cups.  Then they all go home and ‘get some’, most likely with someone handsome, new, and adventuresome.

It is disappointing to have reached so quickly the age when the night is for sleep.  Living in Phoenix doesn’t help; I have to drive a long way to get anywhere, and then the parking is difficult. Best to just stay home with a wee droppie and Youtube. Then it is no bother to doze off by ten.

One of the ironies of  blogger buddies far and wide is we have no local chums to have over for cards, gossip, or whatever. I don’t mind too much, but Saturday nights make me feel it more.

It’s about 11PM and I am already nodding off.  I am falling asleep on my Youtube teacher and virtual boyfriend Ralfy. He is teaching “Whisky Review 209”, which is ironically about how to hold a whisky tasting party. He warns of having only proper chums who are serious about whisky tasting, and not just those wanting to get pissed.  He calls these sordid sorts ‘bawbags’.  I had to look this up.  I will gladly forgo all charting, household tasks, and Ralfy too to have a few bawbags over next Saturday.