On The Funway

This morning, my scales reflected the happy news that in another four-tenths of a pound, I'll have dropped 20 since mid-April. In pursuit of shedding another 6.4 ounces (yes, I know my units of measure aren't that precise in real life), I walked up to the post office this afternoon. I even remembered to bring along a lawn'n'leaf trash bag -- and gloves -- for the walk home.

The bag isn't stuffed to the brim, but it's heavy enough that I'm feeling smug about picking up the trash on the way home rather than on the way there. More virtuous activity awaits -- I'll don the gloves again and sort out the cans and bottles that can be recycled.

It's a gorgeous afternoon for a walk, very reminiscent of being Up North in the summers of my childhood. Sunny skies with little white puffs of cloud here and there, cool temps (in the low 60s). Warm enough in the sun while walking, refreshing in the shade or when exposed to the breezy bits. Very woodsy, even along the roadside. Nice, nice, nice.

There's nothing all that interesting in the litter I picked up. The quantity of beer cans and liquor bottles pretty much equaled the number of discarded coffee cups, soda cans, water bottles, and Gatorade bottles. One of the latter had never been opened. Huh. Lots of empty cigarette packs. I didn't pick up butts, with one exception. Someone had carefully collected two or three partially-smoked cigarettes into a Zip-Loc bag, then tossed that by the roadside. Hey, at least they made it easy to pick up their litter. No diapers or anything else really gross. No syringes or needles, either. That's a welcome improvement compared to what you had to watch out for while out walking in my previous neighborhood.

Onward. More opportunities for virtue await.