Sunday Morning Coming Down

I swear to god that I will take some new photos very soon. These snowy ones are starting to get a little ridiculous.


It was almost eighty degrees here on Sunday. Even though I was a little tired and still feeling kind of high from the night before, I couldn't pass up the chance to run and get even more buzzed. It seemed as though the further I ran, though, the more discord I felt.

Once I was almost to Scott Boulevard, I heard a middle aged couple arguing. At first I thought they were just kidding around, but then I heard the woman say, "Oh, so then you get home and it's four o'clock and you sit around watching sports for the rest of the night and nothing else gets done. Real nice, Joe. Maybe everything will just magically get taken care of by itself." I exchanged raised eyebrows with the couple walking toward me and picked-up my pace to get away from all the negativity. I didn't want the Bickersons to ruin a perfectly good buzz.

Once I turned on to Court Street, it happened again. This time a woman was sitting out on her deck screeching at someone inside her house. A male voice said, "Shut-up, bitch." And then she really got loud.

The worst part, after all the f'in' this and f'in' that, was that she finished by saying, "Whatever, bitch." I thought that was supposed to be my special phrase. I'm not sure if this kind of dissonance took place all the time on my running route and it had just been contained inside all winter by closed windows, or if there was some kind of bad juju in the air for some reason this weekend.

On any other day, I might have soaked up the discord like a sponge and let it take away from all the endorphins I'd been cultivating. On Sunday, however, I was working with two different highs, and I was able to make it safely home, still thinking about unicorns and rainbows and cute little puppies.