Notes from the Road, #6

The new year isn’t even a week old, and already things feel like they’ve reached a stalemate. I walk down a route usually reserved for the bike, but due to the weather, I’m playing it safe. I’m keeping the bike at home where it usually is when I’m not out. This way, if, and when, I fall again, it’s just me instead of me and a heavy cruiser/beach bike. The snow’s melting, but my concern is the refreeze.

I left the house early enough to see the sunset, and I brought the radio with me. That reminds me. I should maybe get a backup pair of headphones so I can keep it in my bag instead of having to move one pair between my computer and the radio.

I sidestep the still-frozen areas, even if it means walking through the mud or in the street.

This time, I have some old books I haven’t cared about since college to drop off at whatever Little Free Library I find on my walk. This time, I also need to pick up some Lysol wipes, and yes, it has to be the branded stuff. My family didn’t like the cheap Baby Shark-themed wipe packages I picked up a couple days ago at the Walgreens checkout.

Cool with me. I’ll keep ’em in my bag, and use ’em up myself.

Nothing at the drugstore I’ve started traveling to. Nothing at the old store, so I take the walk around the neighborhood. I pass an empty deli with its’ mid-1980s decor, an abandoned gas station, and a business that’s been closed for at least the past 20 years. Across the street in the new apartments, someone still has their tree up.

It made me wish I could be there, haha.

I passed a retirement home, where a Little Free Library stood by the sidewalk. Just my luck! I unloaded my bag, and set my contributions in an empty spot. Hopefully they’ll give the next reader some joy and a means of escapism the same way they did me back when I cared about them.

I start to ruminate about money, or lack thereof. The work I’ve been able to get at my day job’s been sporadic, and I’m left with 30 bucks in my account after having sent off an over-payment to The mofos.

I wouldn’t wish this type of existence of feeling hopeless about money on anyone. At least anyone that isn’t a scammer or agent of a predatory/abusive agency, that is.

I cross the bridge over the highway, and I stop to watch the cars go by. I vacillate between feeling like everything’s gonna work out in the end one second, and the next, feeling like I’m going nowhere and digging my wheels in the mud at 150 miles per hour.

It’s the same way I remember feeling hopeless about weight loss, since I had so much to lose in the first place. It’s also the same type of feeling I had when I tried losing it in the past, only to end up back where I started.

But then I had my a-ha moment, found what worked for me, and kept to it for the better part of 3 years.

Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling me this is no different. This time 8 years ago, the amount was still peanuts compared to some in my graduating class, and some I’ve heard about who’ve graduated from other types of schools. It didn’t matter. It was still enough to make me feel like my life was over nonetheless.

Maybe the universe will see fit to send some luck our way, eh?

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