Saturday morning brought a nice winter storm -- heavy rain and gusty winds.
I run every day, no matter what.
I enjoy running in the rain, the heat, snow, whatever. I do not like wind.
But I went out running, anyway. I have to.
There was nobody outside, no cars on our little streets; it was pouring.
At the end of the lake there is a trail that leads up into the mountains. I run this way nearly every day.
Just at this spot, there is also a junction box, or something like that, for the phone company. Yesterday, there was a worker there with his phone company truck doing something inside the box.
This is a true story.
It is my job to tell the truth.
When I ran past him, he smiled and said, "I guess I'm not the only one crazy enough to be out in this weather!"
(I added the exclamation point. I believe phone guy had "exclamation point" in his eyes.)
Oh yeah, Phone Guy. You. Me. Brothers.
This is what I was wearing: shorts, shoes, a cap, a vinyl windbreaker. I was already drenched, and I had about 6 more miles to cover.
And I said, "It isn't that bad."
In a flash, I considered the following: Why did I say that? What does "that bad" even mean? I would have probably said the same stupid thing if the ground were cleaving open and lava was burbling up at my feet.
Then Phone Guy said to me: "Yeah! But I'm getting PAID for being here!! Ha ha ha!!!"
What a jovial fellow.
And I said, "I have free will."
Last night, when I was lying awake in bed (I haven't been sleeping in the past 2 weeks), I was visited by my Psychotherapist In Glass.
We had an intense conversation.
I will tell you about it another time.
Psychotherapist In Glass is not a jovial practitioner.
