Every once in a while you have to just plain suck it up in the face of terrible-horrible-no good-very bad (apologies, Judith Viorst) weather and just hit the streets.
The other night was one of those that promised to test your resolve; enough rain to make a walk miserable in the damp, cutting cold (34F) with a brisk wind to match. So much for wishful thinking that winter was officially over. I like my journey for the walk itself and I hate to miss a day. My other stated intentions are obviously compulsive for me. No big deal. Hell, let’s get it on.
Encapsulated against the elements with a fleece and rain jacket, it was onward and outward. I will admit to scurrying a bit faster than normal (which wouldn’t take much). I can’t say there were any finds out of the ordinary; nothing is ordinary. It was very much a plastic-only day. Paper refuse could wait.
Like an idiot I forgot gloves and paid dearly for the oversight. My hands were freezing, wet and raw before I was halfway through my jaunt and the front door never looked so good when my trip was mercifully complete. I’d like to say I won’t make that mistake again. Alas, if only I could say it was the first time. How’s that working for me?