Monday was spent in this charming practice of mine where I have a destination but quickly become hopelessly lost, briskly walking along city streets not because I know were I am going, but merely because I am a fast walker. All this ever does is get me lost in a hurry. You'd think I would learn. You might further surmise that I would stop and eat when I felt hungry, especially in a situation like this, where a brief respite with a sandwich and a map could possible solve the entire dilemma. You would be wrong. Why be smart and sated when I can be starving and irrational?
For some completely addled reason I would instead plunge blindly ahead, blood sugar plummeting, sure that the bookstore is right around this corner- no? Well, how about this one? And so one for two hours where I accidentally got to know the streets of downtown St. Paul rather well, all without actually finding a bookstore or stopping for food. I don't know what is wrong with me.
Before my tumble down the rabbit hole I did enjoy a run along the Mississippi, where above the water I beheld the beginnings of the yearly chlorophyll exodus, turning the leaves such pretty warm colors, while my mind's eye constructed a rather more gruesome scene for what surely lurks beneath the surface of the water. This is why I'm wary of large, naturally-occurring bodies of water. I mean, I'll still swim in them, occasionally, but it's with the understanding that I'm cavorting in a brine of waste and death.
Okay, so I seriously did enjoy our trip. I'm not sure what just happened to this post. I swear, Tuesday of St. Paul is cheerier: Cathedrals! Bookstores! Sassy signs! A decided lack of the decomposing stew that the yeomen refer to as "lakes"!
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| I miss you and your disturbing secrets, Mississippi river. |
Note: Two things about this post are driving me crazy; I'm going to share them with you for absolutely no good reason. 1) It's not really a chlorophyll exodus, is it? I mean, it's not like the existing chlorophyll in the leaves is departing, much less for a photosynthetic Promised Land. And 2) I referred to the fact that I've swam in lakes and rivers that I think of as a brine of waste and death, when, in fact, most of these were fresh water entities, and a brine is a salt water solution. I considered going back and changing both of those erroneous terms, but I really just didn't feel like it. Writing this completely extraneous paragraph is obviously a much better use of my time.
Oh, I was thinking of all the dead bodies that are sitting on the bottom of the river, weighed down with cement blocks. What, St. Paul isn't a mecca of mob crime? Good thing I guess, since you were wandering around, starving, for hours! Think of the trouble you could have been in.
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