I had an idea for what I was going to write today but now, now that I’m home and sitting in front of my computer with nothing else pressing to do, I can’t remember what it was. You know the drill; I’m just going to keep typing until it comes to me or I get over my word limit.
Was it about work? No, it was not about work. That was not the subject about which earlier I said to myself “Self, this is what you should write about!” Work today was a bunch of little stuff: Outlook crashing, new users to set up, weird intermittent network issues that vanished as soon as I realized something was going on… Nothing pressing, no ongoing issues, no meaty technical problems I could research and then feel good about resolving. Just piddly little shit. Day went by fast, though, so that was good.
Was it traffic, or my commute? No, that wasn’t it. Although, now that I mention that, I have discovered an interesting new way drive. My commute is 30-40 minutes one way since I’m driving from far Southeast Portland to Canby, in the valley of the Willamette River.
Normally I take SE Division to I-205, then south on 205 to Oregon City, where I hop on 99E and ride that up the hill and along the river into downtown Canby. It’s just a series of boring straight shots, except for the pretty river view on that last bit. But even then, most times I use Google Maps during the drive to and from work; sometimes it directs me around big traffic jams, and, if nothing else, it gives me a readout that shows approximately when I will arrive at my destination.
Well, several times this week, in the morning, it told me to take backroads home and to work, and I let it. The route runs through farmland and past big brand-new housing developments, and then into the tiny little town of Carver, OR, on the upper Clackamas River, and includes a nice run past more farmlands along S. Clackamas River Drive into Oregon City. It’s very pretty, much more so than the view from the freeway, especially in the morning with some light fog.
I hadn’t been to Carver in many years, even though as the crow flies it’s not that far from where I normally go. My strongest memories of it are of it being a destination for weekend day trips as a kid, where the whole family would pile into the car and go out on the river. Dad would wander off to fish, my sister would play in the river or chat with her friends who tagged along, and I’d find a shady rock somewhere and read books and comic books. Carver was the town we’d buy soda pop and sugary treats and sandwich makings. That little store is still there, right by the bridge that crossed over the Clackamas River (though the bridge I remember has been replaced by a much sturdier concrete thing, rather than the wooden-railed one that may be a false memory).
But that wasn’t what I was going to write about. Just a happy coincidence that I have been routed through there this week, for some reason only The Algorithm knows.
Was it my poor sleeping patterns this week? No, not that. Last night I went straight to bed as soon as I got home, I was so tired. When I woke up it was after 10:30 PM, so I rose, nuked a burrito for dinner, watched some YouTube, and went back to bed around 1:30 AM. Not sure broken sleep like that is any better than whatever else I would have done, and tonight, again, I’m very tired. Maybe a bit rambly, too; have you noticed?
I feel like I was tired because I felt a serious but mostly-low-level anxiety all day. Tightness in the chest, dizzy, distracted, weird changes in appetite. Many (but not all, mind you) of the symptoms of a heart attack, which only increased my anxiety. But I’m pretty sure it was just anxiety. My stress was not helped by the ongoing political… spectacle? Yeah, that’s a good word. But the less said about that, the better. So I can state for certain that was not what I wanted to write about.
Maybe it’ll come to me again later, that nifty idea I had earlier. I have to remember to make a note of these things when they come up. It’ll help me in the long run. I would love to post some focused, tight, emotional writing here, rather than these stream-of-consciousness blatherings.
I do appreciate my readers, though. Thanks for sticking with me in these trying times.