Every story has a murder

Cold and cloudy. Hot and cold. Stormy. The angels are crying from heaven. God is bowling. I’m saying I didn’t feel well today, because I’m sensitive. I told you I went on a date yesterday, and that was a mistake. My head wasn’t on straight for that sort of thing. Nothing bad happened, everyone behaved, I just got my feelings hurt, and as a reaction to that, decided to drive back down to Southeast Michigan this afternoon to see my mom and my therapist.

The day felt weird from the start. Wendy still isn’t acting right; she didn’t eat her breakfast. We went for a walk on the iron ore heritage trail and her energy was off. I don’t think she was buried in a pet cemetery but it’s also true that not all of her time is accounted for.

I’ve talked about how magical I think the drive from northern to southern Michigan is. One thing my date on saturday said was that he didn’t find the drive very awesome. The circumstances of his life made it so, he had to do the commute often to share custody of his 10 year old with his ex wife who lives in Detroit, a real trail of tears for their broken family. My life feels pretty inconsequential comparatively but not in a bad way. I told him about snow and seeing deer and he said, “right” like we were pointing to the same things to make different conclusions. I didn’t want to, but I kept thinking about him not liking the drive. I worried his words would make me also not like the drive but you’ll be pleased to learn that for me, the drive still feels good and long and wet.

I came to the woods to live deliberately so maybe you’re wondering why this impromptu drive back to Waterford. Well, Walden went into town all the time, they said, for who knows what galavanting and frivolities. I myself want to see my loves, pick up some mail and make some local appointments, and I’ll be back on Wednesday. I’ve been litigating this for hours, like someone is going to be like “why are you driving back to waterford for three days” and I’ll have to explain myself.

I’m writing this at 11:43pm on sunday night at my mother’s house by candlelight, where the power has mysteriously gone out. tomorrow, we work.