Up at 615 this morning to take a little walk. While I was putting my shoes on I actually remembered that I needed stamps so I figured I would just walk to the post office, buy stamps, and come home. The air was crisp and clean and the streets and houses were tranquil. There is a certain magic about being up before anyone else in the morning. A feeling of accomplishment.

Finally I reached the post office and made my way inside the lobby. I started to put my two dollars in the stamp machine when I realized there didn't really seem to be a slot the size of a dollar bill. Strange I thought to myself before reading "ATM and CREDIT CARDS ONLY." Well that sucks but at least I am out walking this morning and started back home.

I no more than stepped out of the post office when it hit me. I paused and looked around and thought that this can't be happening. It was and I was eight blocks from home.

Nature called and called as I gently made my way back the eight blocks to home. Open garages were stamped and sealed invitations to come inside and take care of business but I resisted.

Five blocks to go I pass a truck with the keys in it and the windows down but remembered the song "Shot Full of Holes" just in time and pressed onward.

Four blocks left and some smart ass kids had TP'd a house. Never had the sight of toilet paper looked so good.

By this time my walking had slowed to an awkward looking crawl with several pauses per block. I prayed not to see anyone.

Three blocks left and another alley full of opportunities. Open garage doors and a peculiarly white, toilet shaped cardboard box. Just a couple more blocks...

At this point a van full of people started circling me. I must have looked quite out of place because I wasn't really exercising and might not have appeared to be on a mission to get somewhere. They drove by six times. Probably trying to get my description perfected for the police on the cell phone.

"This guys looks lost officer. He is just wandering the neighborhood and keeps looking intently at houses and cars. I smell trouble"

One block to go and the pressure seems to increase with each step. Like a dog salivating over a juicy steak in an owner's hands. It was worse now the house was in sight. My mind raced as I rounded the front of the house and gingerly ascended the front steps.

There is that damn van again. What is their problem. By this point I was sure they had spotted me and were certain I was trouble.

I stepped in the door. I had made it home.

Turns out the exercise had worked some different areas of my body than I had planned.


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