
72° F, and it’s 4:20 am. I’ve pulled into the Cove Island Park parking lot. 1,155 consecutive (almost) days on this morning walk. Like in a row. That’s right, 1,155 days. It’s not a typo.
There’s one other lunatic’s car in the lot, and that’s likely a wee bit too harsh. It could be his neighbor drove him home last night after a few brewski’s. So, in this parking lot, at 4:20 a.m., let’s correct the math: Two cars and one lunatic.
The weather app has been flashing alerts for coastal flooding later in the morning, and the clouds are dark, swollen and ready to let go.
I don’t want to be here. But, I can’t sleep. So, I walk.
But let’s roll the tape back a bit.
The day actually started at 3 am. There’s heavy rustling on the bed. I don’t hear any of the preamble – – that is, Wally breathing heavily, Wally licking his chops, Susan scrambling to get Wally off the bed, off the sheets, off the comforter, over the carpet and onto the wood floor, and the Grand Finale, Wally ejecting a mound of puke, now compost from scat, shit, crap he shouldn’t have been eating from the back yard yesterday.
Continue reading “Walking. With Wally & Yet More Great Adventures. (74)”