My neighborhood is filled with smoke this morning. Is it so hot that trees are spontaneously combusting? I saw a cat stuck to the road, his little paws sunk into the melted asphalt, that’s how hot it is. He was walking like he had gum on the bottom of his little cat shoes.
I had the tiniest quiver of excitement at the thought that my house would burn up and I would collect the insurance and once again travel free across the surface of the planet. In truth I know I would just rent an apartment on the other side of town and do what I always do these days. Freedom, it is a hell of a concept, but it sure is exhausting when you actually have it in your hands.
I made a salad last night of quinoa, brown rice, baby collards, walnuts, olives, cukes, and whatnot, tossed in a lemony garlic dressing. That is the caloric equivalent of loading a fresh belt in the 50 caliber, so smoke or not I must ride. I could save it for the weekend, but I don’t know if it works that way?
Good grief, this has become such a blog I need to set it on fire.