Thursday Evening Thoughts

It's Thursday evening and I find myself sitting outside with a cool breeze and in short sleeves. A rush of wind blows in my ears and I hear cars go by as people hurry from their offices to live their lives. I love that the sun sets so late now. I wonder if people make the most of these extra hours of sunlight given to them. I wonder if it makes them happier.

An hour ago, I hadn't planned to be here. It was a rather spontaneous decision that started out as an idea when I left the parking lot using the wrong driveway. The appeal of freedom helped the idea grow into a realistic possibility to be considered. A responsible inner voice said disbelievingly, "You wouldn't dare!" To which a rebellious inner voice replied, "Oh yeah? Watch me!"

Now, of course, I'm left to mull over what to do next. There are countless productive and unproductive ways to spend my remaining waking hours. While the natural laws of physics have me gravitating towards wasting time, I feel this intrinsic need to accomplish something.

It doesn't have to be much. Reading a hundred pages of a book. Writing a few pages in a notebook. Making a grocery list. Pricing and researching equipment for another trip. Seeing how my legs respond to a short run. Something. Anything beyond the same old routine.

An elderly lady, likely a tourist, with white hair and wearing a light blue floral-patterned blouse, just tried to bum a cigarette off me. I told her, without thinking, "I'm sorry. I don't smoke." She then said, more to herself than to me, "I can't believe I can't get a cigarette from anybody. What is wrong with people around here?" She then returned to her three friends, all around her age, and went on a mini-rant. As I write this, I can hear her, off in the distance, asking other people if they have any smokes. I hope she finds one soon because she sounds grumpier.

I neglected to bring a jacket from the car. As the sun dips down and shadow creeps up the sides of buildings, it has become quite brisk. I'm this close to giving a shiver and my hands are cold, two obvious signs to wrap up the fun. I like writing this way. I can't explain it. Nostalgia, perhaps? Happiness is writing outdoors on a spring evening. Okay, bell chimes and goose bumps. I'm gone.