The Airplane On The Freeway

I was none too happy to find out it is almost time to give notice to my landlord or ask to extend my lease because I have way too much going on to have to worry about moving.

That was exacerbated by a couple of conversations last night and topped off by the discovery that the post I wrote here was magically screwed up.

It was pretty damn good. I thought it had some panache and a rhythm I don’t always manage to achieve but somehow I screwed it up and published something less than what I wanted to share.

I managed to recover and restore a part of it but was irritated because it didn’t flow or work like it had.

Woke up this morning and was irked about that and a few other things and then I came across the plane on the highway and realized someone was having a day that clearly was worse than mine.

Planes Don’t Land There

The flashing lights of a police car on the side of the highway caught my eye and led me right to the plane.

According to news reports it made an emergency landing on a service road a good while before I happened upon it.

I saw it parked on the grass and wondered what happen because planes don’t land there and was grateful I wasn’t around to see it fall from the sky.

Certainly glad to hear the pilot was ok and that no one was hurt.

And until a few minutes ago I was certain that the pilot’s day was worse than mine.

But then again…maybe not.

*****

That ache from Three Days in Cleveland is back with a vengeance but it is different now.

Something is broken and it is going to take some time to figure out how to do more than put a bandage upon it.

Staring at the wall and the ceiling does nothing to provide more details or shed answers to the 988,389,322 questions that have popped up.

It is almost impossible to put this in a framework that makes sense in part because I am not sure I really understand what I just heard.

Or maybe the problem is I understand what I heard and I don’t like it.

Hell, it could be a combination and the realization that a complicated situation is far more complex than I had thought.

Might bang my head against the wall or with a bat and see what happens.

I heard some guy bumped his head and became a piano prodigy another learned how to speak Swedish.

Don’t have much hope that would work for me because with my hard head the bat/wall would break and I would end up with one hell of a headache.

Still I wonder if maybe there is an exaggeration or misunderstanding here. It is certainly possible and not just because of hope, but because the news I was given isn’t something I have expertise in.

It might be better than I think and just a case of not understanding.

The Wall

Feels like I hit a wall at full speed and there is no one here to pick up the pieces.

Given a choice I would take one of those kayaks and head off into the wild blue yonder to see what I could find.

Maybe I would adopt a whale or maybe one would adopt me.

Could hang out with Flipper and his friends, see if we could find Davy Jone’s locker and take over as its new masters.

“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.”
― Emily Dickinson

Think it might be a time for a walkabout or time to be like a bear and hibernate.

Remind me not to say I figured anything about and that I know nothing because any time I say otherwise I get punched in the mouth.

Granted that usually just pisses me off and makes me want to go harder, but not this time.

Think I am done for a bit.

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