Living alone

I find it more than passing strange to come home after seeing something bizarre and have no one to tell about it. The house is too big for just me. I rattle around like spring snakes in a can of beer nuts. I'm all ready to jump out, but there is no one to surprise. My wit goes unappreciated when only the cat is there to listen. I have discovered that with only me and the neighbor who is too far away to hear, I can play my whistles when I please. I have practiced my didgeridoo two nights running now at midnight. Perhaps if I keep this up, it might actually sound as it should one of these days. May God have mercy on you all if I ever think I am good enough to play in public.