The past 48, a recap.

So today I missed the opportunity of a lifetime, and yesterday I almost died.

We'll start with death, so that we can end on a good note.

It began because I was thirsty. I was on military road near 5 mile lake, and I was thirsty. I started looking for my nalgene. It wasn't in the front seat, so I progressed to the back seat. No go there, but after about 10 seconds I realized, "Hey, I've been looking back here for about 10 seconds... I bet I'm drifting." So I looked up. At that very moment I was greeted with a ditch, one of those very ditches Amber never lets me off-road in. There was a ditch and a stop sign, and I was going 45 mph. So I did what any self respecting Jeep owner does: I swerved. However, I was already becoming horizontal in the ditch so the swerve was a bit abrupt. My tires caught the grass and yanked me back onto the road, with a big clunk where I hit the edge of the pavement. I flew across the yellow lines, corrected hard back onto the shoulder, corrected into the lane, and after a couple of small corrections, continued on my way, never having reduced my speed or hit the brakes. Then I laughed really hard for a long time and had a rather chipper rest of the afternoon.

Then today, I was in downtown Kent, on Meeker Street, in the midst of all those little shops, when I missed the opportunity of a lifetime. I stood on the north sidewalk about to get into my car, when across the street a payphone started ringing. Naturally there was a sudden rush of traffic. I nearly ran in front of a car, but I decided the trauma might be too much for the septagenarian piloting it, and so I waited my turn. The friendly old man took his bloody time passing me, two whole rings. I made my way across the lanes, through parked cars, across the sidewalk, my eyes tunnelvisioned on the ringing payphone. As I crossed I discussed with my shoulder-angels the merits and dangers of answering said payphone. What if there was sniper nearby? Posh, said the courageous angel. Well, what if it's an important phone call for a spy? Courageous angel rolled his eyes. It could be a wrong number. Courageous angel decided that idea was too boring. He and I consulted, and chose to take the risk and answer the phone. So I arrived, and I reached for it, and it stopped ringing. Sigh. It was the first time I've encountered a ringing payphone. What if it's the last? What if the person was dying and was giving a final call for help? What if they were suicidal were searching for a caring soul, and thus, practically speaking, they died because I waited for traffic?

I stood by the phone for a while, waiting for it to ring again. When it didn't I meandered back across the street -- the now empty street -- and wondered how the once annoying rain seemed so poetic now.

And tonight I walked into a door. I just flat out forgot to open it.

And in case anyone was wondering, I haven't actually climbed a snow capped mountain before.

"And" is my new favorite word, because it means people intend to keep talking.