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Tread lightly... that's been the rule for this day. It's like being mentally transformed back into an adolescent... awkwardly bumping into things, whatever I grasp pouring through my fingers, forgetting my train of thought (like the "control-C" vs "command-C" thing, which just devoured the previous attempt at this entry)... therefore, consciously scrutinizing every move is the only way to move forward. Zits, next? So far, so good on yesterday's icy gearbox maintenance... though the jury's out, yet. Things tend to scew up all at once, but maybe the corner has been turned... for a while. That's probably the reason for this hesitance. All of a sudden, a big piece of the puzzle that's defined the past month or so has been removed... leaving the remainder of the structure a bit rickety. Days and extra days have gone by, and I've been blinded to the alteration of the landscape. Like the rivers and ponds returning to fullness... the horizon imperceptably rising a few degrees. The return of the hawks and seagulls to the skies. The calendar flipping away. I welcome the change, though. An upward trend would be most welcome. Here I sit, Zippo-less. The one omission to my packing regimen. CDs... check. Drawlz... check (thankfully... not that I'd wear the same pair for days, or go commando with the temperatures dropping... it's about to wither from neglect, anyway). Sweaters... check. Oy! matches! Saved! Heavy on the air, tonight, is the threat of snow. Someone heard a weather forecast for Denver, probably, and has spread the dire news. Panic ensues. The conspiracy theorist in me believes the weatherman and the grocery is in cahoots: CEO: "The totals for the opening weekend of Christmas shopping is down!" Smithers: "Sir, we have stockpiled facial tissue, bread, and dairy products." CEO: "Patch me through to the We*ther Ch*nnel... and send Paulie and Syl!" Well... it could happen. I swear... the darkest fears of man in the throes of winter is starvation, thirst, and feelthy bungholes. When the first flakes hit the ground, nose-prints will plaster the windows, and the silence of the snowfall will be broken by the battlecry of errant minivans stampeding for the safety of home. After hours of gridlock, caused by others fearing the same. Just like lemmings. Or children. But, then, this time of year reveals the inner child, in everyone. |
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