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SILAS
“You’re not going!” Sawyer screamed.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Sawyer,” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m freakin’ out of beer. If I don’t get beer, I’ll die.”
Sawyer narrowed her eyes right back.
“You can order that crap online, Silas,” she argued.
She was right.
I could.
Louisiana had gone like Texas and started to deliver alcohol.
The only problem was, I was going stir crazy.
I needed to get out of the house for my mental sanity.
“You can come with me,” I suggested.
She was already shaking her head. “I can’t come with you.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Silas,” she said. “Your daughter is six months pregnant. Do you really want to be leaving the house, getting exposed to this virus, and then taking it back to her when you go see her tomorrow?”
When she put it like that…
“Fuck,” I grumbled.
“And what about your great-grandkids?” she pushed. “You don’t need that beer that badly. Order it. It gets here tomorrow. Drink that cheap beer that’s in the clubhouse until it gets here.”
I wrinkled my nose at that.
“The worst part is that I could really go for some chips and queso,” I grumbled. “And some beer. This freakin’ sucks.”
“We can order in,” she suggested.
That sounded like crap, too.
“So what are they going to do when I’m out of chips and need more? Are they gonna stop by with more hot chips and tortillas every fifteen minutes?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“What happened to you going on a diet because you were losing your six-pack?” she asked.
I patted my belly.
All it seemed like I was doing lately was eating.
I got bored, I ate.
I needed a walk outside, better grab a cheese stick on the way.
Oh, there’s a cookie sitting on the counter there that one of the grandkids left when they were over with our great grandkids. Better eat that before it goes bad.
But all this stress was making me antsy, and I didn’t do well when I couldn’t solve a problem.
