Somewhere other than here
I'm sitting here on a Wednesday morning drinking caffeine, still trying to wake up. Can't seem to get much sleep anymore. Not sure why.
It's beautiful outside, one of those early fall days that makes me wish I was up at the lake, or strolling through the mountains somewhere, or in general roaming around outside. I get like Walter Mitty on a day like this -- daydreaming about being somewhere other than here.
Fall brings mixed emotions. Usually by late September, I'm ready for the cooler days, for weekends filled with football, all that jazz. But, of course, it means the end of summer, good-bye to baseball, early warnings of winter. Which never seems to sit too well.
Things seem to be stuck in neutral. Not awful, not great. I get this sinking suspicion that all my days are mere repetition, some kind of bizarro "Groundhog Day," but without Bill Murray to make you laugh. It makes me want to jump in the car, pick a direction and just drive.
I'm living for the weekend -- Friday night with friends; Saturday football; Sundays at Barley's to hear RobinElla. It's enough, and then again, it isn't.
What's that old John Denver song say? "Some days a diamond, some days a stone."