This was about to be a post about money.
Screw that.
Being broke sucks, trying to have sensible discussions about money without having an arguement sucks, drinking Busch Light all the time instead of Guiness sucks. Let's just leave it at that.
It was a yucky morning, but it's turning out to be a pleasant afternoon. There's a certain smell in the air today...a certain, sweet, climate-induced rot.
Ok, that sounds gross.
But if you've ever lived in the northeast, you know what I mean. All the leaves fall down, it's dry for awhile, they blow into their piles where they'll melt into the ground for the winter...and then, it rains, and somewhere from the very bottom of that papery heap, where worms have started to eat away at this delectable autumn treat, some wonderfully slimy, musty, earthen smell sneaks into the air under every tree. At first you're not sure if you really smell it, because the air just barely brushes it under your nose before it drifts away. Then the recognition hits you like the cold air does, and the brief thought you had of turning your nose away is replaced by the desire to seek it out in the middle of some deep woods.
And that, my friends, is how I forget about money.
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2 comments:
(How can I comiserate without making you think of money?)
Have you got paypal? 'Cause so help me I will send you $10 to go get some Guiness. Broke is one thing, but without good beer is just inhumane.
I'd like to visit there and know that smell. Locale is becoming more interesting to me. I wonder if that's a sign of aging.
Just the thought made me smile, Jack...thanks! Just drink one for me and that'll be fine. I'll find a good Happy Hour somewhere.
Changes of locale are always good. I cannot even begin to imagine a place where it doesn't get below 45 degrees, but I know I need to find out what it's like.
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