Chris is not at home today. Currently, he's off in Ohio somewhere with his advisor, checking out a real-life warehouse and thinking of ways to make it more efficient. Or something. I dropped him off at 6 this morning and promptly went back to bed. He probably won't be back until midnight.
So I've been keeping myself company today. I just came in from a delightful dusky autumn walk to the library and back. Since I was going by myself, I brought along my iPod for company, to fill in any lonely blanks of my walk with some music. I also brought along my phone, mostly because I'm a girl walking by herself alone. It just seemed like the smart thing to do, much like carrying my keys in my fist, weapon like.
I failed to take into account, however, just how many pictures I would want to take on my walk. Someday I'll remember this, and have my camera at the ready, but in the meantime, my phone and I are unlikely pals in my adventures. (Some peoples phones are better for pictures than my camera. My phone is not of this camp.)
Wouldn't you know, three or four pictures and three or four blocks later, my phone informed me that it was out of space for the gorgeous and interesting photo-ops all around me. I grumbled internally, slowing my pace to frown at my phone. What on earth is on here, anyway?
So on my walk, I alternated between deleting (or gawking at) pictures and taking new ones. And sometimes I'd just stop and look, a grin spreading across my face and my eyes going wide.
|we live near the historic district, so there's all sorts of details like this!|
Even with that deep-seated adoration of all things autumn, going through all those pictures ended up being one of the sweeter parts of my walk. There were several pictures of toddlers I've babysat, and a couple of stunning scenery and architecture pictures I'd forgotten I'd taken. And there were so many random little snapshots I'd sent to Chris, mundane little updates on our life together.
|my favorite picture from the walk|
Being alone can be a terrible burden. But sometimes, it's a unique and distinct form of pleasure, too.