Clearing the cobwebs

I decided to go for a longish drive yesterday – longish, at least, by my standards. Once around the lake, then out into the far northwest corner of the city, then back home again. It was cloudy and 64. I didn't need my sunglasses, and I could open the sunroof glass and let some fresh air in.

Let's roll.

Although I generally don't wander far from the house in my errands, I do occasionally like to go for a thirty- or forty-mile meandering drive with no destination in mind. It gives me a chance to sweep the cobwebs out of my brain.

And when there are only three or four days every two weeks in which I feel like doing something other than sleeping and barfing, it seems wise to make use of them somehow.

It was also one of those occasions that I felt would have been improved by having a significant other with which to share it. But I've never known a woman who liked to just go on long drives with no other purpose than to drive. My wife would tolerate them, but that was as far as it went.

With other women, it was always, “Let's go to the mall,” or, “Can we run one or two or a half dozen errands while we're out?” or, “Let's go get mimosas,” or, “Let's go meet this other guy I like so I can try to provoke you two to fight over me,” or, when I still drove the minivan all the time, “I can't be seen in that.”

I've loved all the fantasy relationships I never actually had. The real ones, well, not so much.