So I'm not really a huge fan of that song. And the reference is hideously overused. But at the end of the day ("we're another day older") shit does change, everything references something, and I hate coming up with titles.
Anyway, what's got me thinking about change in the first place is this: I've been home for less than three whole days, and I'm leaving again. And I'm excited. I can't wait to leave, and get where I'm going, and al fin, yes, the road does lead back here, but again, not for long. And for some reason that feels wrong, and guilty, that's okay with me. Maybe I'm behind the bandwagon on this. I know people who've felt like this for years, but this is new for me.
I woke up this morning in a house empty except for the dog, and rattled around for hours, wondering how anyone spends day after day of their life like this. Getting out of the house to sit at Les Schwab for an hour brought with it the adrenaline rush of a much more interesting adventure. Which is not to say Les Schwab isn't a fascinating place. I learned that the guys who work there wear the blue jumpsuits over their white, short-sleeved collared t-shirts and nice pants, although both layers bear name patches; to never let anyone under the hood of one's car who could conceivably screw up enough to put transmission fluid in the brakes; that a pretty specific kind of customer generally sits around the waiting room beside the giant racks of new tires instead of leaving and coming back later; and that no matter how bored I am, those daytime TV Judge Fill-in-the-blank shows are never something that I will enjoy.
But I digress.
The point is, I'm headed in to the airport in less than 2 hours to pick up a friend, and then we're getting the hell out of Dodge, which both geographically and demographically speaking is really more like hauling ass back to Dodge, and which is also a strange phrase to use because she'll have been here less than an hour and I'll have been here less than a week.
So forget Dodge.
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