Nothing's Shocking

Mid-week trips to San Diego are both exciting and daunting. I've only had to do it a few times. Tomorrow, will be the next on the list. It doesn't quite feel like a getaway. At least not in the way that a weekend does. It just feels like a long drive with a purpose. I guess I like that. I like that I used to drive several hours to go see a show or take in a sight. And I'm fine with vehicles not yet being rocket-powered. Although I recently saw some guy tooling down Sunset Boulevard in a little rocket car. I laughed and cheered. If I had had time before he passed me, I might have made the "toot toot" gesture you make to truck drivers out on the open highways, but that would have been a stupid thing to do.

Right now, I'm not making plans. I'm just pushing back from the desk, heading for the slumber mill, and noticing how desperately I could use a neckrub. In the days and weeks to come, I may begin making plans again. But to what end, I can't say. Days of frustration take on a different cast from the vantage point of nighttime. They seem small and meek. While the night is vast and merciless. I'm soaking in it.