Singin’ a chorus of “I got up late; confused” blues

We had a hot night last night. Rode the motorcycle to the bookstore in the tourist town of Saratoga Springs, about 10 miles from home; met a man who wrote a novel about being a dad and playing high-stakes poker. Read a bunch of magazines and sipped an iced-coffee concoction made with chocolate-covered java beans and coffee. It was tasty, but I am still picking little coffee ground pieces from my gums. My husband combed the shelves for new computer programming books and met me in the cafe, where we looked at a local history book about Clifton Park that showed a yearly convention of beagle raisers, circa 1890, Of course, we saw Harry’s face in every one. The beagles were all sitting so calmly for the pictures- no sniffing butts or twisting their leashes. We debated whether my father-in-law would like the book, as it depicts his neighborhood before his house was built. At 11:00, we barely made it to the supermarket before closing time to get a pizza for dinner, and went home to watch the History Channel and doze. At 3 am, we finally woke up to go to bed. And now it’s 8:53am and I feel a hint of what I did 30 years ago after a crawl down Caroline Street in the same Saratoga Springs! Only one chorus of those “I got up late; confused” blues these days, thank God, and now its time to make the coffee, wake the husband, and walk the dogs. It’s a beautiful day!