Some ol' habits, like good westerns, never die

Some habits die hard.
Or never die at all.
Yours truly is a bachelor again for a brief spell.
Sherri and one of her sisters left last Saturday for a few days of investing in the charm and culture and commerce of Biloxi, Miss.
Anyway, before my wife drove off, she made sure there were plenty of groceries in the house so I wouldn't starve.
Not a chance.
Saturday I had hot dogs for lunch and later, while watching the SEC and the Big 10 championship games on TV, I finished the rest of the chicken wings we'd had Friday night while watching my alma mater, Bowling Green, win the MAC Championship.
Sunday? Hot dogs for lunch again and, after watching football all day, I pulled out some coconut shrimp from the freezer and fired those up for dinner while I watched "3:10 to Yuma" with Russell Crowe.
There's a pattern here.
After work Monday, I heated a frozen pizza and enjoyed it with a glass of wine while watching my man Clint Eastwood in "Pale Rider" followed by "Josey Wales."
Movies, Sherri would say sarcastically, for which I should know the dialogue verbatim having seen them a thousand times before.
Some habits die hard.
Or never die at all.