Standing in your pj's at the truck stop

Hi there, guys and gals,
Well, listenin' to some four-wheelers at the truck stop cash register the other day got me started thinking. Guess the first time it really hit me that I was livin' in a different world was late one night when Miles had gone an' crawled out of the truck and huffed off to the truck stop cafe' to get some coffee or something. I was gettin' ready for bed an' I realized I was inside the truck, in the middle of a huge parking lot filled with truck drivers an' other trucks, and wearin' only my pajamas. My poor grandmother would've swooned at the thought, even though of course I had the curtains pulled an' the cab doors locked. You just don't realize that the truck really becomes your home until you're on the road so much, you feel funny walking into four walls that don't jiggle around a lot. (Unless of course you live in California.)
With that in mind, I'll remind everyone to finish their log book and turn in for the night. And remember to honk when you see Miles and me on the road. You might even honk if you happen to see Flora Fora. Bless her heart. She's having kind of a rough time of it, her and the five cats. Seems a poor misguided mouse got into her little RV the other day, and the cats just went crazy. The little RV was rocking back and forth and jumping up and down, and leaning first one way and then the other until Flora thought for sure they were all going to be capsized like that pitiful little fishing boat in "A Perfect Storm." The cats was screechin' somethin' awful, an' clawing and scratchin' at each other, all tryin' to get that one mouse, when all of a sudden there's a terrible pounding on the door. (She told me all this on the phone, poor thing, when she could quit shaking hard enough to push them lil' bitty buttons.) Said the pounding nearly scared her to death; she was sure her heart quit beating for a few minutes. Finally she said she got a breath gulped in an' she hollers, "Who's there?" An' this big voice says, "State Police! Open this door!"
So she shakes her way over to the door, dodging scrambling cats all the way, 'cause of course now they're all runnin' to get under the bed because they're scared of whoever that is at the door.
An' she opens the door. A trooper's standin' there, and he glares at poor Flora Fora in her little housecoat an' says, "What's the meanin' of all this ruckus in here?"
Flora nearly fainted, she told me, he looked so mad. "Why, officer," she finally managed to whisper, "I never thought my little Cat House would be such a bother to everyone. I'm really sorry." That's the name of her RV, you see. She's got a little sign with that painted on it, just hangin' by the front door, where the doorbell is.
She did say the trooper was really nice an' even apologized to her after he'd gone under the bed and drug ever' one of them cats out, hissin' and scratchin' and cussin' in cat. I couldn't help thinkin' she was lucky she didn't say something really dumb, like Mrs. Slocum used to say on "Are You Being Served?" Poor Flora. An' the worst yet - when she went to get her breakfast the next morning, that mouse jumped out of the cupboard at her, an' the whole commotion started again.
Well, night-night, everyone. Safe roads and well-payin' loads.
A big good-night kiss from yours truly,
Nadine