I need a more positive synonym for strange. You see, Monday was strange, but I don’t want Monday to detract from the idea of perfect. Besides, it isn’t like Monday was STRANGE. Monday wasn’t STRANGE. Monday was strange. The funny thing is that it wasn’t even Monday’s fault. I mean, it usually is, but this time it wasn’t Monday’s fault….this time.
Monday was strange because my walk to the bus stop was dark. Because the clocks changed on Sunday morning, instead of racing to catch my bus for 6:32, I was effectively racing to catch my bus at 5:32. So no surprise that it was dark. Logically speaking that is.
Again, I am making this sound more negative than I mean it to be. While I didn’t really like the idea of it being dark when only a week before it had been bright, I did manage to find some beauty in it.
It had rained the night before and the streets were like black reflective mirrors. The traffic lights, the car headlights and the glow of bits of neon signs now inhabited the upper and lower half of my vision. The higher ones were vivid and sharp, the lower ones indistinct and muted.
The air was cool and moist. Despite the darkness, I felt pretty sure that spring was on the way. Hard to feel that it wasn’t perfect.