It’s physically painful being away from my computer, and, of course, my little lover Paquita. Here I am back where I belong . . . not really rested, but feeling stress-free.
Monday included a walk around Walden Pond — the Walden Pond — and, other than crowds, cell phones, numerous visitor parking lots all packed full, an ice cream truck and souvenir shop, Walden Pond is just how Thoreau left it. It is lovely and peaceful and woodsy.
To protect Christian’s reputation, I will not post the photo I snapped of him chatting on his cell phone on the very spot where Thoreau’s cabin once stood. (In his defense, he’s a very popular man and was in town on business. The Walden adventure was a spontaneous suggestion and a diversion of his primary purpose.) I will merely tell you, dear reader, how the call was dropped due to poor reception. It seems a cell tower has yet to find it’s way into the woods, unlike the land fill that resides next door. Yes, I said “land fill”. Some urban planning genius, in his basest form of civil disobedience, thought it would be a good spot for the accumulation of massive amounts of waste. Genius, pure genius. He’s on the road to the Presidency, I tell you!