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Been getting a little stir-crazy lately. No surprise, really. Better than watching reruns on TV or refreshing broken webpages or munching dry ramen or half-focusing on a book or looking for a job or....
wait no it's not better than that last one that last one's pretty important I should really look into that more.
But what's done is done, and this day is done. And it was done outside.
I faire'd my promenade (you like that? Been brushing up on my French.) starting around mid-afternoon, a couple of hours after waking up. Took the stairs from the 5th floor of the apartment complex, stepped out and breathed in the humidity.
Sticky-hot day, temptered a bit by the time. Hands had been randomly tearing through the cotton clouds, leaving some bunched up, some streaking and torn. Kind of day that you knew would lead to evening storms, though you wouldn't know if any would pass through your block, or just pass by.
Walked down the street past some older buildings, people out tending small personal gardens or touching up their cars. Sparse but full plants, a green so bright as to rival the rays they're targeting. Imitation and flattery. The plants going about their lives as if nothing had changed.
About a mile down the convenience store at the corner was out of gas again. News claims there's been no apparent damage to oil production and distribution, so I can only figure everybody's still panicking just in case. Glance through the dusty window shows the shelves mostly empty of food beyond ever-present Twinkees and Diet Cokes. Station attendant busy at the register, a kid staring at the TV behind the counter.
Turning and adding another half-mile to the trip brought me to a more commercial part of the city. The department stores are practically dead; fashion holding its breath until it's sure the dust has settled and the coast is clear. I kept an eye out on the restaurants, was getting a little hungry at this point. Hadn't been eating breakfast, and though I'm trying to save money it's nice to recharge body AND mind with food cooked by someone else sometimes. Family restaurants and fast-food joints were sparsely populated, but not dead by any means. A glance at the grocery store revealed who was making the real killing right now.
Also, somewhat surprisingly, the local Borders and Blockbuster have a few people milling about. A sign of the situation, I guess. The world's been flipped, but it doesn't FEEL quite upside down. This far removed from the event, people are still nervous, but boredom is starting to win out over cautiousness it seems. And there's no overt sign that money or supplies will be an issue for most people. There are no long lines for the latest releases from Chanel or Hilfiger, but Clancy and Spielberg's offerings are the new hotness. Cheap enough to break the monotony (and perhaps provide the comfort of consumerism?) without risking survival funds if things get worse.
Far more traffic on the sidewalks than the roads. Was odd to hear snippets of conversation instead of V8-guttural growls.
People all somewhat uneasy, perhaps they sensed the change in the atmosphere. Police noticeably present at the downtown intersections. Quiet, unthreatening, but still a little off. The city was always one of low crime rates, one of the reasons I chose to live here after graduation.
Sat on a worn wooden bench on the edge of a downtown park, the green of the grass worn down by time, pets' paws and children's shoes to a sandy brown in the middle. Trees swayed slightly, wind picking up. Three miles from home, and I looked up as the first drops of rain started converting the dust to mud. Ozone scent wafting through the leaves and people and voices and non-motors. Non-mechanical rumble of thunder informing me in a somewhat miffed voice that I really should think about returning home, was his turn to take in the scenery.
Got back to the complex about five minutes too slow to miss the downpour. Contemplated wringing my clothes out into bottles. Laughed at the absurdity of life where that's even a remote necessity. Laughed that a part of me was still worried that it was a remote necessity. Laughed to quiet the part of me that wasn't too sure it disagreed with the worrier.
And then I stepped back outside and just laughed for the hell of it. A couple of people walking by joined in. Then we nodded to each other, and went on our way.
In my mailbox, as well as one or two others, was a pamphlet from the local government.
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