Harvest Stroll

I was on a sunset stroll with my pup tonight. She had been out for training for what seemed like an eternity, and while she may have pooped in my boat our first time out, she has taken quite fondly to walks off leash.

It was a beautiful night in Bullmoose township and we were walking down our quiet country road. I might have brought a delicious pumpkin ale along with me. After all, it’s pumpkin ale season.

I had done some roof work earlier, and the precarious nature of the roof with the natural imbalance of a “Matthew” had left my nerves a little shaken.

So we walked our quiet dusty road. With a delicious pumpkin ale. Halfway through our walk, I started think’n about all the things I was supposed to be doing on a Monday night.

Rush hour, a trip to the gym, a trip to Home Depot, or some other mundane todo in a place I wasn’t supposed to be.

It was then I realized that I was drinking a 9% beer and while I’m no Walt Whitman, there’s little shame and much room for introspection when the alcohol content is this high.

I know I’m doing what I’m supposed to. Lost to the world on my quiet dusty road in a township named for a long dead president, here for my pup, and she here for me.