Who Was That Masked Man?

Tighe just got here, and all my plans, except for some of the food preparation, have already gone by the wayside. He's had the phone to his ear since he arrived. It seems his boss started to panic almost as soon as he left town, picturing what would happen if he didn't come back. It was, of course, a consideration. 

Now there's an offer on the table that will most probably send Tighe back in the other direction in another day or two. Since there's another storm coming through the Rockies on Thursday, he figures he should leave Wednesday morning if he's going to go. There go our trips to visit the parks. No Cheyenne. No Budweiser tour. No museums, or Denver mint. No Easter Sunday together. (I know, my list grew during the night.)

Oh, well, such is life. And at least he'll be here for John's birthday tomorrow. Maybe we'll celebrate by going with John to buy his first ever "Cheap-o Senior Citizen's Fishing License" that he'll finally be old enough to buy. That would be an exciting way to spend part of the day. It's what John wants, anyway, and it will be his birthday. 

I'm trying to be philosophical about it. Yes, he's leaving and I'll miss him, but at least we'll have the phone back.