Rock N' Roll

It is a horrid development when a married couple spends a Friday night at home alone . . . reading on the front porch. But that was the case this past weekend.  A pile of magazines, a stack of textbooks, a smattering of paperbacks, a box of newspapers . . . ours for the taking while the night was young.

I'm not sure I can take much more excitement, though. I read essays about economics, the genome sequence of Neanderthal, and Bob Dylan.  I perused newspaper columns.  Read a couple of short stories.  Began a novel.  

Eventually I suggested we drive to Dairy Queen and buy a treat.  We did.  We drove back home to complete our reading in the twilight.

With Friday nights like this, is it any wonder our marriage has lasted for twenty-seven years?