Walking to Work

It's Saturday and I'm at work. I'm babysitting the stage production going on and working on the video with Dennis. I'm absolutely beat because of the way I got to work. Last night, I had Dennis drop me off at my house and I went downstairs and played on the computer for awhile. When I came upstairs at 10:30, Mrs. C. had that perturbed look she sometimes gets. I thought it was because I was playing on the computer. Turns out, she'd lost the key to the car and she didn't know how I was going to get to work this morning. We looked and looked but no key. At 11:30, I decided my only option was to walk to work. I've done it before, in the middle of winter, so I could do it at night. She didn't want me to, but I saw no other way. I didn't want to walk either. It's 8.3 miles and it was the middle of the night. But I had committed to working and I had to be here to let the production company in the building. So, after a minor scuffle, I began walking. It was actually pretty fun. I love being outside at night. It's cool and mysterious and solitary. The road I took goes through a long stretch of barren desert and the darkness took away the ugliness of it. I had my tape player with me and I finished Crichton's Eaters of the Dead. After that I listened to talk radio. Around the fifth or sixth mile I began to experience a strange sense of euphoria and increased energy. I was even dancing a little to keep my under-used and atrophied muscles loosened up. Today, as I sit here, they're tightening into little knots. The trip took me 2 and a half hours. My wife just called a second ago. She found the key. It's in the diaper bag.