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Smithology: The best laid schemes of 914s and snow boots
We have been down so long that I’m making plans.
Forgive me for mentioning the calendar. Where are we now—four weeks? A hundred? Time flies when you’re having fun. When you’re stuck indoors during a global health lockdown, time wobbles a little on takeoff, then suffers structural failure at the wing roots and pinwheels into a tree. Last Wednesday felt like a month. Friday deeply resembled an entire year. Saturday grew whiskers and sat in a corner talking about its great-grandbabies to anyone who would listen. Which is partly why I walked into the kitchen on Sunday morning and proceeded to cook three eggs, a stack of bacon, and a family-size frozen pizza, and then apply that whole mess directly to my face.
Love that ending poem. My own fantasy last weekend was I sat down with Google maps and designed my month-long cross-country road trip, thinking about what stops I'd make, which friends I would lean on for free lodging, how long to linger at each place.