My Cardboard Balcony

Night In by Belinda Roddie To each their own, but I prefer: A night in with the wife Margaritas and buttered popcorn A sleeping cat arching its back against my palm for a longer pet and behind-the-ears scratch. Hopefully none of the kernels get stuck between my molars, and the drinks don't hit me too hard, and my feline friend doesn't become too grumpy when I finally withdraw my stroking fingers from its head so I can hold my wife's hand on the couch.

I am not worth any of your time. I am absolutely the worst. You let me into your home, cook me meals, give me clothes to wear - and yet, what do I contribute to society, let alone your livelihood? I am nothing. I am less than nothing. And I don't know why you humor me. I don't know why you tend to me. And yet, here you are. Offering me a towel after I take a warm shower. Providing me a bed in the guest room. Shushing your noisy children so I finally get a chance to sleep.