a poodle and a purse
sunday afternoon i procrastinated a run until dusk threatened. as soon as i set foot on trail the rain started, and me without a jacket. my mood grew even grimmer as i considered:
1. my whinging hamstring
2. life (or at least 2 months) without hooch (or at least w/o Jameson)
3. the gut i can no longer suck in, and my lack of motivation to do anything about it.
yeah my life is HARD, you don't need to tell me.
despite the hammy, i started to perk up after 30min and when i encountered another soppy soul standing by an access path to the creek, i smiled by reflex and greeted him: hello. he was wearing a broad-rimmed hat that partially shadowed his face and turned his eyes into coins of flat darkness. he looked at me straight-on as i passed and offered no response other than a derisive narrowing of the eye. fuck you, i thought, then felt braver when i'd gotten 10m on him. it's probably not as bad as you think - i hollered back, the patter of rain on leaves the only response.
my bravery flagged a bit on the return trip but he was gone. a blur of pink down by the creek caught my eye and i detoured down the access path to investigate. where the path opened up to the bank of the creek there was a small stuffed poodle, very pink, and a matching plush purse propped at the base of a spice bush. i got close enough to see that rain had tamped down the poodle's tail and ears, and the purse was monogrammed "Bridie." feeling as though i were trespassing, i backed away and turned my ipod off for the rest of my run.
- how was it? - D asked cheerily when i clumped back into the house.
- i need to find another trail - i said.
5 comments:
That's weird. And even reading it makes the hairs on the back of my neck bristle.
I'm with you on the hooch thing. Day two of the dry-fest. the real challenge will be friday at beer o'clock, when I feel I 'deserve' a drink after sitting here fretting and sweating all the live long day. But I will prevail. Gutsy needs this. There there gutsy, settle down, my how plump and rotund you are.
We can do this Melvin.
the one glass of shiraz i had last night didn't come within a mile of the DTs so i ate a quarter-cheesecake and went to bed.
OTOH there is something to be said for not worrying about passing out whilst doing backstroke...
i remember you saying you felt better - eventually - and i am hanging my hat on that.
By next Tuesday you'll be positively perky.
i should be, with all that cheesecake.
at least we - and laf, and alicia, and jack taylor - are suffering together.
Jack would never willingly bottle it out of fear for his liver like us. Oh sheet, I've just trundled back from my run. yikes. The Jacket is awesome, toasty despite the bloody wind. I really mean you are peachy. MY thermal hat also helped. Here I'll send you a picture.
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