Slow Step

Dear J-

Sick today; I’ll spend the time on the way home resting and pretending that these various aches and muscle pains don’t portend anything too serious.  It feels like minor things — colds — hit me that much harder once I passed some invisible age marker:  believe what you will, but my throbbing head tells me the true story.  Ironically, I had a medical exam this morning to requalify for vanpool driving duties, and the symptoms were kind enough to hold off until I’d managed to demonstrate some semblance of fitness.  Or perhaps it was the somewhat suspect two-weeks-expired string cheese I packed as a snack, believing that everything prepackaged is chemically preserved into near-mummification and that I could safely ignore the ominous date.

The days I manage to convince myself that I don’t need the fenders inevitably turn out to be the ones with the most threatening atmosphere; it’s not cold outside, but the air is heavy with the promise of moisture to fling.  But it’s not the stuff falling on me that I mind, it’s the stuff my wheels kick up all over my pants and back (during the last rainstorm, the muddy tracks made it look like I’d been run over by several motorcycles, directly over my spine).

Our weekend excursions and dinners may soon find themselves limited to walkable distances; gas keeps rising, the days are longer, and the weather has, besides the unspoken threats, been remarkably cooperative, breezy and sunny, giving you the option of roasting or freezing, depending on the tree cover.  Honestly, maybe it’s just a bad case of mondaywork-itis; as the miles interpose between myself and those concrete domes I find my spirits lifting, low clouds or no.  I’m getting a handle on what I need and can do in the absence of those with serious experience.  I can do this, I say.  And for once I believe it.



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4 Responses to “Slow Step”

  1. Junior Says:

    Oh, dude. Beware the poison cheese. How can something so wonderful do something so bad? Proof of the existence of a vengeful God, I say. Or – possibly – the random violence inherent in a vast, uncaring universe unfolding according to no particular plan. Dealer’s choice.

  2. dearJ Says:

    It’s such a betrayal, the cheese. But, still thick-headed and unable to produce meaningful work today, I suspect it might be something else: new kids at daycare, bringing their exotic germs in.

  3. junior Says:

    Yes, yes, I suspected you were being a little rash blaming the cheese; the delicious, wonderful cheese. Stupid urchins!

    Mind you, if “thick headed and unable to produce meaningful work” is symptomatic of an illness, I believe I should be off on long-term disability.

  4. dearJ Says:

    Well, today was quite a turnaround — must have been a 48-hour bug, I suppose; on the other hand, I was in training all day and yet the entire plant did not grind to a halt, casting suspicion on my personal theory that the entire procurement process revolves around me and another engineer (who happens to be on vacation, for the second straight week).

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