I swear, that boy has such peculiar moods. I should think that a few years in the army would have gotten that out of him, but apparently not. Twenty-one, he is now, and still subject to occasional fancies like a child. I think I sometimes envy his ability to lose himself in thought. I've never been one to do that sort of thing; always liked to keep a solid head on my shoulders.
Perhaps I shall go to the club tonight instead. A few drinks might be what I need; otherwise I may find myself succumbing to my envy!