This morning, while driving for the 895 billionth time down Highway 15-501 into Pittsboro, I was struck by one of those extremely¬optimistic moods, like, you know, when you think to yourself, "Sure, I may have quit my job to, instead, make no money doing nothing, but what the hell!" I don't know if everyone finds themselves feeling this way from time to time, or if I'm just particularly annoying and self-centered and, you know, peppy, but not in a good way. If it's like that, I apologize. Especially because I'm about to¬continue with¬this line of thought. Take the general routine of life, lately, for instance - specifically, our routine, me and my darling husband. Since Cecilia's been away at rock-star camp, I've been arriving home to find tiny Mina ultra excited at my return. We go for leisurely walks around the neighborhood, something I could never do with both dogs tugging me relentlessly in two directions. Sometimes colorful birds, like bright red cardinals and yellow goldfinches fly swiftly from fragrant beds of wildflowers when we approach. I am not kidding you. This happens.
Despite a busy social calendar for the summer - weddings to go to and the constant desire to flock to the water, don a bathing suit and lay out - as well as patios and porches and bars with outside seating - J and I have accommodated a peaceful schedule regarding our sleeping and waking. Before bed we read or watch a movie on the television he so artfully set up in our bedroom (where I thought we could never have a tv due to the long, mirrored closet, and the fact that my bed¬is only a few inches smaller than the entire square-footage of our house). I've just started Infinite Jest, which I will need an encyclopedia and some mind enhancing drugs to finish, and he's reached the last book of Stephen King's Dark Tower series. Sometimes when I'm done with¬reading¬for the night¬(this happens after about one half of a page¬with the current novel) J will read to me from his book. He reads ridiculous passages to me, about half badger/half daschund creatures that roam in multiple worlds...babies that can turn into spiders...people getting impregnated by demons. And I say, "That Stephen King, he's really something," by which I mean: "This nonsense just reinforces the fact that I'm never, ever reading anything by that man again after The Stand provided me with such delightful and warped nightmares for a week."
After¬we get up for the morning and get ready for work, we decide on breakfast and coffee. If there isn't any in the house, we go to a local favorite spot and pick some up and I drive J to work.
That brings me to Highway 15-501, for the 455,383 quadrillionth time, and my commute to the newspaper office, where, on a day like today, it's fairly quiet, we've got the weekend ahead and the other details - the persistent details of a busy life, the bills and preparing for the future and the cat, who meows so loudly when he is hungry that I am kind of tempted to take his ID tag off, drive to the animal shelter and drop him quietly outside their front door, and who always wants to be outside, even though his hip is weak, and God knows he could get hit by a car and get killed if we don't keep an eye on him - those details seem so far away and so humorous that worrying about any of it is irrelevant.