Thoughts of a Middle Aged Wealthy Man

I came home and took off my satin loafers, gently placing them by my Italian Stone fire place. Then I made my way to the gallery and grabbed what I had believed to be one of my finest cigars. As I was about to light this cigar, I noticed something. It was an Egyptian blend of tobacco. How distasteful. I put down the cigar, and then made my way over the wet bar on the far side of the room. The bottle of scotch was dry. Not even a drop left in it. Out of sheer frustration towards the ongoing situation, I decided it was in my best interest to take a ride. I stared down at the granite floor beneath me before finally making me my way outside. Parked slanted on the cobblestone driveway was my pride and joy. A 1980 Rolls Royce Silver Spirit. I entered the car and sat silently for a few minutes, mentally observing the strong smell of the leather. That smell. How I yearned to smell that smell each and every day. After this brief, but thoroughly intense connection between the the car and myself, I slowly pulled out and drove into the distance. I drove for a few minutes before the image of that empty bottle of liquor and poor quality Egyptian cigar plagued my mind. I could not tolerate it anymore. Without wasting another second, I gently turned the Spirit around and drove to my local retailer in search of fine cigars and effective scotch. It was nearly an entire fifteen minutes before I arrived at the store, and my sentiments of disgust were growing by the second. I stormed through the parking lot, only to be greeted by a sign on the outside of the store reading, "CLOSED." A sense anger over came me, but I was unwilling to succumb to it so I inhaled deeply and dashed back to the Spirit. As I was entering the car, I noticed a homeless man in the distance, laughing. It appeared he was enjoying himself. The audacity. I slammed the door shut, drove at a quick, but reasonable speed back to my estate, and spent the reminder of the night sitting by my Italian Stone fireplace staring deep into the flames. Flames whose orange, brown hue reminisced of the scotch I could have been enjoying. Life, you don't fail to disappoint.