I have Rabies for a few days

It was a beautiful day here, today.  One of those days where you put the top down on your car, if you aren't me.  If you are me you abhor convertibles because they are noisy and they make you have sunburn and bad hair, and also they have no trunk space.  But if you were, say, my husband or my mother in law, you would put the top down.  And you would be happy.

I didn't put the top down for the aforementioned reasons, and also because I wasn't driving a convertible.  I was driving a monster truck.  Technically it was only a normal truck, but if you're used to driving Eddy, my cute little PT Cruiser, it's a monster.  You don't sit down, you climb up.  There are extra mirrors to check because it's so easy to accidentally crush VWs and other minuscule cars.  When the truck hits a bump, the feeling goes on for a long time because it takes a while for vibrations to travel through all that material.  What I'm getting at is it's big.

I am actually okay with this.  I love Eddy, don't get me wrong.  Eddy is just right for me.  He can seat several adults at one time, and he has vroom if I need it but is otherwise content to go at normal speeds.  And I thought about getting those gangland style bullet decals but then Eddy actually GOT SHOT and now I don't need them.  Eddy and I are mega cool.

But Rabies... Rabies is on a whole nother level.  (Okay, the truck's name is Rabies.  I would think that would be obvious.)  (Because JD put the dog's tags on the truck's keyring to distinguish it from Eddy's keyring, which is otherwise identical.  And last year's rabies tag was on top.  Do try to keep up.)  There is no way NOT to feel like you are the shiznit when you are driving Rabies.  You sit waaay up there over all the other drivers, and when you press the gas pedal Rabies makes this low rumble, like "I am the big dog, and you just got too close to my bone.  And I'm not going to kill you because I am generous that way, but you had better step off, biyotch."  And then Rabies graciously doesn't crush the other cars, although it does take out the occasional curb to subtly reinforce the point that it is larger and heavier than everything else in its environment.

JD claims Rabies is female but I am not feeling it.

I seem to have gotten off the point about it being a nice day.

After I dropped Eddy off at the garage (Eddy was making undignified squeaky noises) and rumbled in to work with Rabies, I got the opportunity to walk around.  If it were December, I'd have driven.  It's the first of September, however, and the air was gentle and the sky was blue.  I went for a walk.

You know how when you go for a walk on a really fine day, it feels like you're floating a little bit?  Like the sun is a big warm cat rubbing on you?  How it smells like all the good things in the world are growing right near by, and there is not even a possibility of poison ivy or skunks?  That's how today was.

If you know how that is, you might understand why I'm a long distance hiker.

After I went to the other building and did the inventory task I had to do there (which involved being in a tiny, windowless room in which everything is coated in an unhealthy grainy black dust) I strolled on back to my office.  I was appreciating at an intensity level of 8.  It's not really safe to appreciate at a higher intensity than that if there's traffic around.  Although today's drivers were being pretty considerate so I could have gone for a 9.

I was enjoying the grass growing, and the particular way the leaves were hanging off the trees, and the bouncy way the squirrels were going about their business.  And then I rounded the corner and saw my building.

My building is not a pretty building.  It is exceedingly utilitarian.  Any possible beauty which might have been imparted by its one original saving grace, which was neatness, has been neutralized by dead grass, equipment lying around, safety tape tied haphazardly around the equipment, and the obvious afterthought of a high bay garage having been turned into a low bay garage.  Goodness but it's ugly.

I stared up at my building and tried to think of something positive about it.  And I thought "Well, it's strong.  It provides shelter and it keeps the rain out."  That was the best I could do.

But you know what?  Being strong and providing shelter is a beautiful thing all on its own.