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This morning dawned clear and optimistic, warm enough for me to take the first morning smoke on the front porch in shirt sleeves. ...absorbing the angled sunshine, the atonal chorus of birds, the color imperceptably returning to the landscape. This would have been an excellent day to take a pass on vegetating in the office chair, pretending yet again to be studiously set upon looking busy, eighty-four miles away from home. After four days of balls-to-the-wall jungle taming, an extra day would have been nice. The Volvo had the same idea, reluctantly keeping an idle after the crank-over... spluttery on the brief trip down the road. At least, it had the option to stay at home. Came the appointed time, I shoehorned my necessities into the Miata, dropped the top, and made for the exit. At first, it was more like a Sunday drive... warm airflow over the windscreen, a nice sun-fired glow on my neck, ageless African music materializing from the left side of the radio dial. The closer the road drew me to the north, insidious grey clouds crept over... separate ragged forms giving way to an iron pall. And the chill... sinking from my wind-tossed hair to the base of my neck to below the door top. The first stop, to clamp the top back into place... the second, to zip up the thick plastic rear window. Advancing overcast from the east, like manifested evangelism. The Four Horsemen conjured, and unleashed. Like driving into a storm unseen. How appropriate. This exhausts me. Fatigue of the mental variety. Lets hope the DumbAss FratBoy can't count to seven seals. |
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