Town of Constant Sorrow

I knew from the very beginning that this was not a normal day.

It just doesn't feel right. Normally, when my alarm clock wins our daily battle, there's a slight breeze of hope in the air. (Some would say that breeze comes from my 24/7 fan set to "High," but I'm waxing poetic right now, so chomp on it.) A hope that those two women won't be stealing the treadmills when I get to the gym. A hope that drywall doesn't cave in on my head while in the shower. A hope that I can revisit my bed as soon as I possible can. Yet even though the fan is still blowing, the air is silent and still. Heavily still.

I shake off this feeling that something's not right, rationalizing it as just a week-commencing moment of peace. What else can I do? I don't fully wake up and make sense until about 9:30, so how accurate could any analysis be? After all, I just woke up from having a dream where someone actually cares about the Emmys. Yeah, I know. Crazy.

But the brush-off doesn't hold as I finish up getting ready and move to leave. As I exit the apartment and hit the landing, the weirdness escalates. Two of my neighbors get the Post. Normally, their papers lie wherever the paperboy chucks them, including our welcome mat. Today, they were set down perfectly on the two recipients' doorstops, each wrapped in an opaque black sleeve, and accompanied by a single white lily. Huh?

First thing I noticed as I left the building was a sharp blast of icy wind hitting my jacketless self. Some would attribute it to autumn finally arriving in Virginia. I think there are bigger factors at play. Normally, there are squirrels and sparrows cluttering the walkway in their food-gathering and resident-waking ways. Today - silence. Had I not been head down and walking briskly, I might have seen that tumbleweed blow across the access road.

My car starts up in the chill without a problem, I back out and hit the commute. Traditionally, I flick the radio on to hear the Junkies banter about how nobody will miss hockey (which I'll get to this week) or how money UMd football is (which I won't waste my time on), but today, with the enveloping quiet, it just seems right to keep the radio off. Radio silence is a rarity for me, but this entire morning has an ethereal awkwardness about it. I'm playing the role of concerned guy, so I observe further.

There's no traffic on Lee Highway. It's empty. I went to church yesterday at 7:30 am, and I thought that was an open ride. Today makes yesterday look like Daytona Raceway. This plus side for me is that with no cars on the crossroads, all the lights are green, as if they will never be red and yellow again. Fine by me. The confusion kicks it into Mach Wow! when I turn on Gallows. Every vehicle missing on Lee was already on Gallows. I've never seen so many cars patiently processing down a street without a horn blast. And by 7:30 am, it's bright and sunny. Which makes everyone's omnipresent headlights a little unsettling. What's with the funeral procession, folks? Who the heck takes Gallows Road so literally anyway? That's my job.

To avoid the interstate depression, I hit the backroads up to Tyson's. It's just as quiet here in this area of thriving corporate expansion, but only a solitary trumpet can be heard as I roll down the window. Am I hearing things? Eh, maybe a typical commuter finally found his aggression via his horn. Eh, maybe I should stop rationalizing and take these oddities seriously.

Two cars back, I fumble with my badge waiting to gain entry to the parking garage. (Apparently, it's the thing to do when you're near the line.) Out of the car, and into the building. People are here already. Now I only work on the second floor of a 14 story high-rise, so the walk from the garage to my desk isn't a long one. But in the time it takes me, I realize it's going to be a busy day. I'm intercepted four times during my jaunt, and now my workload has doubled. Almost to the point where I should ask my boss to bring in a backup. But even I'm not that stupid.

My laptop roars to life. While I sit here with my bottle of water and heavy eyelids, I contemplate today's blog. And yet, I still can't explain all these occurrences from the morning routine. What caused it all? What happened to this town? There's gotta be a reason for all of it. And then I see the headline of the day.

Like I said, with the Eagles on MNF tonight, all the lights are green, as if they will never be red and yellow again.