Rainy Saturday. X-T10, 1/2000, ISO 6400
I woke up at 7:30 this morning; the late fall sun was just starting to think about thinking about rising to show off the dark gray of the day. I brushed my snags, washed my face, assessed the status of my numerous wrinkles, the severity of the bags under my eyes and headed downstairs to let Jake (the dog) out into the dark damp morning to do his thing. I thought about a cup of coffee but turned the TV on instead and saw that the footy didn’t kickoff until 10. Why am I up?
I went back to bed.
I fitfully slept for another two hours, in which my all too realistic dreams featured a futuristic world in which strong armed leaders used technology and fear to force society into inner planetary wars and to follow their warped version of what was now passing for Christianity in the year 3001. It was sort of like Space 1999 meets Fox “News” meets the Republican party, meets Dick Cheney, meets Idiocracy, meets Philip K. Dick (for the latter I blame my friend Mike who turned me on to The Man In The High Castle).
The future is so sassy: cool boots and bell bottom polyester pantsuits.
Soon enough I was up. I shook the warped violence of my dreams off, poured some coffee and sat down to watch Chelsea implode against West Ham. It’s so bad for Chelsea right now I actually feel bad for them. That’s like feeling bad for the aforementioned Dick “mother fucking” Cheney. Oh well, that’s football.
As expected, a check of the radar showed that there was more rain on the way, but this time a tad more serious with high winds, thunder and all that shit. So, I made a sandwich, grabbed a blanket and settled in on the couch to snuggle with Jake (the dog) and watch Arsenal and Everton.
Eventually the rain did come (as seen in the photo above) and I thanked God I wasn’t out riding in it. I resided myself to a lazy Saturday until I got the urge to grab the dumbbells and the stability ball for some light weight and core work while watching the match. I haven’t picked up, pushed, lifted, pulled or tripped over a weight in over a year, I can guarantee that I won’t even be able to pleasure myself by this time tomorrow.
Eventually I actually left the house for some groceries and then to help my buddy Chris move some stuff down to his new crib in Alma. Baby steps…
Obviously this was NOT my ideal Saturday, but one needs to immerse themselves in slack every so often.
Wifey and B-Man are due back in Michiganderburgh tomorrow and I am anxious for their return. Still, I am hoping that the weather cooperates for a ride. If for no other reason than to prevent me from thinking about picking up a dumbbell.
Later.