A three-day weekend (for what I can only refer to as Indigenous Peoples' Day) calls for three straight days of riding on the Jersey country bike trail to rack up the miles, several nice hours of hanging with the iPad in the brown chair while the other household members went at their 'devices' too, one long Monday morning's wait for an auto glass repairman (after two good days of driving with no front driver window and nothing flying out of it), and probably a few too many hamburgers.
Jim knows he only ordered two for Charlie at the local burger place but he swears there were three in the box they put his order in. Charlie handled the queasiness that struck him in the evening adroitly but, after he was back in bed and I'd doused the sinks with soap, hot water and cleaning materials and he asked for 'fries,' I told him "tomorrow." Asking for food or "something to eat" has often been an indicator of an unsettled stomach in Charlie.
He was quiet after I first went downstairs to write. Then we heard giggles. Then a deeper quiet.