Talk, Rush, Bye, Click, Good Friends

Wearing headphones, every day, when I jump out of the car, talking into my blue tooth, with one friend or another, so the thirty-two minutes will not be a complete waste of time. Home now, wanting to take a potty, jump into my pajamas, and be left totally alone. But I owe them a little something for entertaining me for thirty-two minutes, right? Wrong. Social niceties are out the window when you are sixty-six. I am old. I could be dead in an hour. Good-bye, friend. Thanks for entertaining me on the way home. Click. I have the kind of friends who laugh, knowing me well.