As I recently posted, Monday morning’s 6-mile lumber was an unusually warm one. However, a few hours later, the winds picked up, and the temps dropped as if they were blowing directly from the frigid teat of a witch (the one that lives in a shed just outside of Zama City, Alberta).
With that, Tuesday morning’s 6-mile lumber was a cold one and a full 20˚ colder than the day before. Ahhh… normality. Well, at least weather-wise.
After I finished tending to the last of the leaves on Friday, I showered and headed out for weekend provisions. That would be the last time I left the open borders of the Cul De Sac Shack for 48 hours.
No, I wasn’t depressed and hunkered down in The Bed of Torment or hiding out from the roving gangs of newly deputized MAGA Brownshirts rounding up the Libs, freethinkers, educated, and creatives for the internment camps; I simply had no reason to go out—so I didn’t. And it was pretty darn OK.
Was it the worst best week ever or the best worst week ever? I dunno.
I’m not a fan of being right. Mostly because I’m usually right about bad things. But as William Shakespeare once said, “C’est la vie.” (I really don’t know if he did, but he may have, so just go with it).
I’M NOT GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT.
I’M NOT GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT.
I’M NOT GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT.
I’M NOT GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT.
I’M NOT GOING TO WRITE ABOUT IT.
I swear, not today.
I knew going into 2024 that it would be the worst, and it hasn’t disappointed me in the least. That is why I nicknamed my near-daily hikes The 2024 Lumber Through Hell Tour.
Early Sunday morning, I drove in complete darkness towards the trails, wondering what the hell would make me do such a thing.
Then I remembered; I’m an idiot.
I fully admit my posts have taken on an opinionated, dark tone lately. This is not the person I’ve been working hard for the past few years to become, and I’m committed to trying to get back to my normal goofball shenanigans where for no good reason, I write about crap outdoor fitness activities done by a 53-year-old moron, and other stupid shit that nobody but me cares about.
— Management
I needed to get 4.75 miles in over the weekend to meet my 25-mile goal, and I am sorry to report that it didn’t happen.
After a rainy Tuesday “run,” later that afternoon, I ran out of things to do to keep my mind from contemplating the shit show of right-wing stupidity that is modern America. So I found myself amongst the landscaping with my macro set up, taking photos in a failing attempt to ease my mind in between rain showers.
I chased around a yellow jacket from rose bush to rose bush, took a few crappy macro shots, and then retreated inside to edit and “clear my mind” with an IPA or twelve.
