Web Cowgirl 衛 思 維 (webcowgirl) wrote,
Web Cowgirl 衛 思 維
webcowgirl

Short wet days ahoy. In which I rage against the dying of the light.

Walking away from the bus stop Monday afternoon I noted the lights were already on in the underpass the route I walk takes me through. (Got enough prepositions there, scarecrow?) Winter. Winter winter winter. It all says winter: darker days, quicker twilight, the cloud of gloom that hovers over the city. It reminds me of why I buy heavy instead of clingy skirts and am utterly fascinated by the creature called "the Goretex boot." Winter here is an enemy I gird against, with warm clothes and a layer of fat and heated, booze-laden beverages served late at night. I hate waking up in the dark and going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark, dark, dark. It gets especially creepy around the overpass, which is always evocatively decorated with cut off rubber hoses and tiny plastic baggies and the like. I imagine spooky music playing as some guy with a knife waits for me to go into the tunnel that always has a puddle in the middle of it but is required travelling for the northbound pedestrian.

I'm home alone tonight and not pleased about it. I was thinking yesterday that I'm not getting enough reading in, but I'm just fooling myself; I'd prefer the less intellectually rigorous life any day of the week, as long as I was spending time with other people. Well, that is, unless I had a really good book to read.
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