The day stopped being a miserable day right at the same time the day stopped being miserable. Coincidence? Of course. Or synchronicity. Both.
But it was a Holidazed Davezaster when it came to almost everything else, including right from the start, an unintentional ditching by the very person who was going on about not being ditched, but oh, well, reuniting felt so good on the first of several unnecessarily upward routes that normally one eschews because who doesn’t prefer longer and flatter rather than shorter and steeper, right?
And yet, in spite of that, we seemed to be taking the worst of both options much of the time although that probably did get us to where we were going with utmost efficiency, a phenomenon far different than most of the rest of nearly all of the evening.
It’s pretty easy to get lost in Magnuson Park, especially when you’re following the taillights of people who don’t know where they’re going either; fortunately, at least one person understands how the future present works and besides, there’s a limited number of places you could be headed for, even if a park shelter isn’t one of them.
Meanwhile, I’m still puzzling over how it’s possible to be a rule-breaker when there are no rules; somehow, it seems to happen, paradoxical as that is, which is probably the point.
Prudence suggests embracing half the opportunity, waiting a few hours and seeing what happens. But sometimes the prudent thing to do is be imprudent, better to go overboard than merely dipping your toes.
The moon certainly held nothing back; not another night all year long that was longer for it. Every time I gazed up from start to finish, there it shone.
And above all, success: all the way home and into the drive with rubber side down. Not really a miracle, but kinda miraculous when you let it be.
Happy holidaze.
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