Monday, October 5
It’s the first Monday in October:
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Somewhere around nine o'clock at night, I get out of the shower and develop a craving for bad junk food. I wind up driving to the Diamond Shamrock with the radio on. It’s classical I don’t exactly recognize, but it seems familiar. Jeremy’s getting out of his truck as I come around the corner, but I don’t stop to say hey. There’s a version of tomorrow where I have elected to stop by for a beer tonight, and it doesn’t start with me waking up sober, let alone at a decent hour.
The gas station has Gardettos Original Recipe Snack Mix, so I get a bag of that, the big package of Twizzlers, and a bottle of iced tea.
It’s shameful how much of the tea I consume these days comes out of a plastic bottle from a gas station. I was raised on two kinds: Made in bulk with powder, and sun tea made with Lipton teabags in a big glass jar. The important thing wasn’t so much the origin, though: It was that you made the stuff at home, or at least mixed it there, and always had a pitcher in the fridge. At least through the hot months.
Of course the hot months are just about done. There’ll be more hot days — maybe even weeks — but it’s been in the 60s, hazy gray, the light weirdly muted, the ground wet with occasional rain. I’ve been wearing long pants and shoes, digging out sweatshirts and hats. This morning I turned the heat on in my car as I rattled over to the office.
Somebody died on Long’s Peak a couple of days ago. Reading the forums now confirms a gut feeling that it’s awfully late in the year for that shit, if you aren’t a lot more experienced than me. Maybe even if you are.