My hormones are all screwed up. I blame it on the stupid horsepills I'm taking for my foot. But still, I've felt PMSey for days - you know, bloaty, crampy, hostile. But today I'm convinced it's not a false-positive -- I got a case of the cries.
Other women might know what I mean. The NPR Weekend Sunday (or WeSun to us junkies) music set me tearing. A particularly poignant paragraph in my book started a gusher. I was overcome with a desire to read old Christmas cards I've hung onto for too many years.
So I decided to go for a hike. A guide to local hikes mentioned a trail that wound a few miles around Lincoln, MA with Mt. Misery as it's goal. Mt. Misery? Perfect.
It was truly wonderful to get outside. I do my best thinking outside. I do my best non-thinking outside.
And while I didn't meet God (although I'm sure She was there) and I didn't discover the Meaning of Life, I did have a very cool leaning-against-a-tree-uuji-breathing moment. Oh yea, and I saw some really big animal poop. Bear? Deer? Huge doggie? I have no idea, but it was a bitch to scrape off my boots.
Mt. Misery? Only kinda sorta.