Cramped Style Of My Own

I enjoy my commute home nearly as much as the work day. A leisurely twently minute walk on each end of the subway is wonderful on warm summer days. First to walk down the seven flights of stairs and out the front door. Second to realize how sensitive my eyes are becoming. On go the sunglasses with their cute magnetic clips. Third, crossing the parking lot, up along the street, over the bridge, and down the slight hill to the station entrance.

Now it is time for my escape. Out comes this summer's public transit novel: Angels and Demons. Remembering the intro chapters for a couple years was enough reason to purchase a copy. I love fantasy, but you already knew that.

I tend to nearly miss my stop. This is tough to understand because I go the length of the line, end station to end station. Now that my mind is warm and my body, too, I walk up the hill and across the bridge to my home. Along this stretch I try singing more than humming. Of the handful of songs I know, the emotion I feel for 'cessa crudel senza di te' is tremendous. Well, it is tremendous when I drop my own personal mask and search deep for an answer.

Today I followed through with some upper body resistance conditioning and yoga stretching. I feel good and might have just continued if not for the hunger and 30C temp.

Now at the end of the day is the only time I really dislike the moist warmth of the city: sitting, typing, and sweating drops I can feel roll down my skin. Hopefully when I retire my body will enter a different phase and permit me the rest I am due tonight.