Parentheses for your thoughts

Day 4. I’d hate to turn this into a blog about quitting smoking, but I suspect that’s more interesting than this weekend’s upcoming deck conversion-to-patio project. Who knows, a freak accident with the power drill may come up and whammo! New material for next week! Speaking of freak accidents (wow, way to segue!), I was driving home yesterday talking with Pickle (finally, gawd, it’d been almost 2 months). That’s not the freak accident part, though, just a lucky coincidence that I was driving home in Texas and he had a day off in Nebraska. At one part of my long-ass commute, there’s a large field with a barbed wire fence separating it from traffic. Two dirt bike riders (dirt cyclists?), one in red, one in blue, were careening around the field (and a I do mean FIELD; not a hill or crag in sight) and Mr. Blue’s front tire must have slammed unexpectedly into… something, because one moment he’s the cause of half the annoying droning sound to my right, the next moment his bike is stopped, end above front, and Mr. Blue is flipping off, seemingly flying right at my windshield. By some feat of physics (or luck, but I’d have a hard time explaining the principles of either) his trajectory (big word, eh?) halts right before the barbed wire line. The flipper, having reached his maximum height and distance, slowed, then fell straight down, narrowly missing rush hour traffic and even more narrowly missing the barbed wire fence.

My commute does regularly give me these little glimpses into lives I’m not leading. Just this morning, for instance, I passed an old man standing on the grassy median of a busy four lane road, practicing his golf swing. I know just enough about golf to know he was not using a wedge.

Um, so, Day 4. It may be obvious that I’m feeling a little flighty. Having some difficulty concentrating on one thing at a time (and needing to address each angle of an issue as it occurs to me, which makes telling a story hard work for me, harder for the one trying to follow it- this aside might be a good example of that), getting distracted by anything shiny, that kind of thing. I’ve been told it takes 3 days to beat a physical addiction and 11 days to beat the psychological one. All I know is if I can get through Day 6 to Day 7 (Monk has a gig. Bar + beers + knowing nobody = massive urge to smoke, just to be doing something), I’ll be aces. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got pie to eat. Get your mind out of the gutter.

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