at shell

so. back at shell. nine hours and ten minutes later, straight from riverside. a new record. as i drove through my gate there was no cat to greet me. there were flowers and condolence cards and pictures of the cat as kitten. oh dear, yes, just when i thought i was past sweet sorrows.
so. i got the hell out. off to get coffee for the morning. i checked lola’s oil, got her tank filled and at whole foods bought walnut bread, cilantro micro-greens, green onions, a pound of freshly ground buffalo and two beers. back at shell’s from the cupboard sea salt, pepper, mustard and anchovies. took an egg from the fridge for the yolk. i poured myself the first beer, put on joni, ‘i could drink a case of you’, the steel guitar version and set out to mix me a steak tartare. by the time it got done and i had a picture, i was at the second beer and the i-pod played sinatra, ‘strangers in the night’. you might think me a fool, but my tears were delicious, so was the tartare heaped onto bread.
what now? s’pose i’ll be off to the tub for a bubble bath, a sip of malt and then sleep, sleep through into sunday, late, may be.