Reliable happiness is regular karaoke with strangers turned friends, cheering at song choices, clapping for singers, humming backup for tunes that ask for it, noting those you’ve never heard before, wondering how you missed them and learning how to get more of that in your life.
On a day off, we wandered through cramped and darkened museum halls to see hundreds of artifacts from ancient Egypt, and later met friends at a wine bar to mark completion of a workplace term with a surprise toast. In between, we had tea and an amazing meal at a nearby restaurant.
It was sprinkling when we left, and picked up a bit by the time we got over to the greenway. The only other person out was bundled up, walking a small black and white dog on a leash. After managing to talk myself out of a candy run at the drugstore, we went home to have hot tea.
This is not the strangest loop, because it’s familiar. We were here two years ago, almost to the day. The jokes around it are sad because they’re based on long-pending systemic failures. To confuse it with any honest, principled choice is to miss its intended impacts and effects.
So we’re bracing for punches, planting our feet and scrambling for purchase. Must I stay mad at someone in the process who’s being not only picky but picayune? Upon review, I think I’m more relieved: in an instant, each of a few uncharitable impulses and instincts were validated.
The restaurant sells its own bottled beer. Should I stop by for two-dollar-off happy hour to try some? Oh yeah, that’s right, any drive home past this place only happens once a week, and that New Year’s “California champagne” gave me limited returns on investment and imbibement.
I drew back the blinds for a while and let our living room fill with fresh air and low-sixty-degree temperatures, partly to ensure no smoke from cooking set off our alarm, but mostly to stock up on sure to be scarce sun over the next week. Last night’s fireworks? Pale imitation.
A few days ago, I started Donna Summer’s albums in chronological order, partly due to two online pals’ tangentially related recent musical cues, memories of a college-era greatest-hits tape and word of a record-label biopic. She went well with slow driving through rainy weather.
It’s one of those backward days where you watch standup comedy to backfill on the serious things you’re not required to do, or eat dishes you’re not actively avoiding so much as you’ve changed, in the basis of knowledge and practice over time, how often you seek and pay for them.
If I’d had more time, I would’ve walked the greenway a bit further than the stretch near Chattleton Lane to see how the creek has handled this week’s rains. The forecast says heavier totals are inbound tomorrow and Saturday, after local soils’ saturation levels boost flood risks.
