I opted to go for a walk this afternoon after a leisurely day of playing with Hen and reading my book and hanging with the family at the condo. With the brisk pace I was hoping to set, I couldn't take Hen with me because he is finally reaching the point of being too heavy to hold for long periods of time. And I knew because I wanted to go fast(er) and he'd sense this immediately if not sooner, he'd put on his toddler/preschooler brakes and be as slow moving as blackstrap molasses oozing from an overturned jar. So, I headed out alone. Ah, sweet, sweet freedom.
I crossed our rickety bridge and headed up, up, up. The cemetery is like a brutal urban (i.e. paved roads) hike consisting of switchback after switchback. The straight sections, well, there were two. The unhappy memory of riding up that road on my bike during the days I biked to and from Tigard to work still haunts me. But with iTunes blaring that damn Glee music in my ears and the very cold coldness saturating my fleece outerwear and attacking the essence of my being, I was pretty motivated to move. 36 minutes after leaving the house I reached the "summit." It should be noted, more so I don't forget than any other reason, that hiking up produces quite a bit of heat. Going down, however, does not. It didn't help that the wind chose the beginning of my descent to attempt to freeze the marrow in my bones. Brrrrrrr.
But I digress... My adventure really took a turn for the worse, that I'm sure will land me in Hell (as if my prior activities have not already placed me there, right?), when I was about halfway down K2. We're all in various states of phlegmy sickness at the condo. Naturally, that mucus works its way up and wants out. In one weird snort-like maneuver, I turned my head to the side and hocked a loogie. My very first one. On some dead guy's grave. Yes. I spit on a man's grave. I was in the midst of doing my hock-a-loogie dance when I realized my faux pas. I'm not sure if my mental apologies reached the dead guy or not but I truly am very extremely really really sorry.
2 comments:
thank you for the great laugh!
After a hike up the trail with Turtle, I often have a similar problem. And the trail pops out into the cemetery, too. I fear I've gotten a bit casual about spitting. I fear one day, I'll just be having a normal conversation, turn my head to one side, spit, then continue on as if this is perfectly normal in civilized society. I don't think I've ever actually spit *on a grave* though. I'm sure, since you meant no malice, the dead guy didn't mind.
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