the green fairy

It's my last night at the cottage. I've been back and forth from Chicago to Michigan so many times it hurts my brain to try to remember: sometimes taking the train, sometimes driving, and always thinking about which bike I'll have access to where.

I went for a bike ride yesterday that made me feel great. Must have been about 20 miles, since I followed some route that claimed as much. There are bike routes posted all over up here, planned by Backroads Bikeways. Hilly but not too hilly, roads were good not great. And there was one part where the road disappeared altogether. Granted, it said "road closed" (to thru traffic) and I went ahead anyway.

And tonight I used the grill for the second time, the first being last week with Laura. I made the same thing: a boneless ribeye, marinated in salt and balsamic. Good stuff. And, just like last week, I forgot about the sweet potatoes until just now. Sounds like dessert.

All the things that make the house a good vacation house are really only available in the nice weather: bike rides, grilling, outdoor fires, the beach, sunsets. I haven't seen any sunsets since I've been up here. It's a strange concept, being able to have a sunset just about any night; in my mind they are sacred, associated with vacations with family or friends; seems strange to witness alone. And it seems strange that it seems strange to a guy who voluntarily made his primary habitation a lonesome cottage in the woods.

But my vacation was different this time around than other vacations. It seemed more like work, but the work was largely unpaid and mostly involved synthesizing various former and future selves into one. I think it's easy to put self-work on hold when we get busy with more lucrative activities. Maybe it's just because I'm a procrastinator, but I had issues from years ago that came up--both expected and unexpected. Maybe this is what therapy is like, except more regular and less intense--surely more sustainable.

And so to celebrate my last night, I started with steak and am finishing with Absinthe. I've got a few shots left in the bottle, and I can't imagine doing this with anyone else.

infestation

Spring is here--wherever here is. And with it comes all sorts of breeding and feeding. For the cottage, that means ants. I scared both my mom and sister about the mice, but I've seen neither tail nor poop since I cleaned up the bird seed. Instead, I've found dozens, possibly hundreds of ants and have summarily disposed of them. Isn't that just about the nicest way to say "killed them by squishing"?

Tonight was no different. After spending the evening fasting from video entertainment--Lost, Netflix, whatever--I sipped on a couple shots of Absinthe. I remembered that I've been forgetting to remember lots of things and so made a couple lists while listening to Kid A and Amnesiac by Radiohead, finishing off the evening with Gorecki's 3rd Symphony. If you don't know that last piece, you should. [And you should introduce yourself to it by drawing a bath, lighting some candles, and piping it through your Böse Wave Radio. Or just through a nice stereo. It's rather low, so any computer speakers or cheap boom boxes will not do it justice.]

After taking a stroll through memory lane, wistfully remembering who came after whom, and after nearly falling into a sort of hypnotic sleep, lulled by Gorecki's sad songs, I made my way to the kitchen to tidy up before bed. Somehow or another, I picked up the honey jar, which had attracted a half dozen ants--the big fat black ones--into its crevices, hoping for one sweet lick. Summarily killed. I get no pleasure out of feeling the squish--far from it. I'm not a bad person.

I took a bike ride in the evening after spending most of the beautiful day cooped up in a room with a view and an open window. I think I got a tan somewhere between reading my "biography" of Chicago and riding my beloved fixie.

Tomorrow's back to Chicago. Dinner plans tomorrow night. Will probably run into Ashleigh, who is back from Montréal, on Saturday. Someone remind me to bring her phone charger with me. And giving some bike tours Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. It's like a weekend, but it's more like work.