Sunday Somethings

Today was a strange Sunday for me. As the day closes, I can clearly see several encapsulated moments - little vials to be dumped into a Pensieve, as it were. So, thought I'd share them, all nice and neat and wrapped in a bow for y'all.

• I woke up tired, at 8:00 am, after around five hours of sleep. Quietly, I began cleaning up the remains of a stellar apartment-warming party the night before. Bidding adieu to a departing houseguest as I emptied the dishwasher. Everything was quiet, and peaceful, and I had the world all to myself. It was very serene after the prior evening of excessive noise. 
• Noon. After cancelled plans, the beau and I went in search of brunch. Or, perhaps more aptly, lunch. In a city known for brunch, I was super disappointed when we sat down at a place that told us they did not have brunch at all, but only breakfast, until 2:00 pm. It was a rare moment where I actually walked out of a restaurant. Brunch means both. You can't have only eggs available at noon, friend. Not in this town. 
• 2:15 pm. The beau headed off for work, and since it was such a rare, beautiful October day, I hit the trail along the lake. For an hour and a half I just listened to music and walked along, admiring the world. Half the leaves are turned and departing from their branches, the other half desperately clinging to the green glow of summer. The travelling Oktoberfest beer garden bumped out polka music which echoed along the shoreline, bouncing off the buildings of the city. (The same music which has played from noon to night every day for the past week, and has graced our home with hourly renditions of "Roll Out the Barrel.") It was perfection. 
• At the empty beach, on my walk, there was a young family. They were introducing their small baby to sand for what seemed to be the first time. The dad, clutching the child by both hands, slowly lowered her down until her bare feet touched down. The kid's face lit up so bright, as if she were the first human setting foot on Mars or something. After seconds of confused joy, she began sprinting forward, longing for more new experiences. She was bliss. Her mother recorded the whole thing. I was in the background of that moment, and will be forevermore because of that recording.
• There is a nearby pier that was strangely unoccupied, so I walked all the way out into the lake, as far as it would take me, marveling back at the skyline. Sitting on the graffitied wall, I watched the waves lap up against the pier and the rocks. I took a million photos of the "artwork" on the pier. Most just silly tagging, but some just there for the beauty. It took me a time to realize why no one else was around, and that it had been growing darker. That the fog had begun to roll in, and that rain was eminent. So I headed home.

"Trying not to look so young and miserable..."

• 5:00 pm. At the mall, meeting with my sister for lunch, realizing how nice it is to live somewhere where friends and family are so easily accessible. Where, when wanting to have a few people over for a housewarming, a troupe of around 30 shows up. Where, when you call up your sister and say you want to go see a movie, she doesn't want to see the same one but meets up with you for a meal beforehand anyways. What a lucky lot in life.
• 6:45 pm. A date with myself to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (part 2) in IMAX. Perfect seat, popcorn in hand. Ready for all the feels. That's when it began. The woman right behind me (of course) who would NOT stop her running commentary of the film. Every character who came on screen, she had to announce who it was. Every moment of silence, she interjected some quip. A loud cackle. A misplaced reference. It wouldn't end. This woman was reprimanded by her family with her at the theater, and by several other people in the audience who implored her to just watch the film in silence. (There were even swear words exchanged at one point, and threats of violence.) To no avail. 
• Now, don't get me wrong, I still felt all the feels (and cried like eight different times) and enjoyed the movie immensely. But, I probably enjoyed it at about 80% of what I could have, had this woman not been there. Throughout the film, the brainstorming began, as I plotted out exactly what I was going to say to this woman at the end of the film. (There was nothing to be done during the run-time, clearly, as she had ignored everyone else.) I had several versions ready, as the movie drew to a close. Then it occurred to me: this lonely, odd woman, probably just didn't have anyone else to express her excitement to normally, and maybe genuinely thought this would be a good outlet. Or maybe she just liked HP so much and couldn't help herself. (I mean, I had done a few little fist pumps throughout, but they were a quiet affair.) The real question: What good would it do for me to be mean to this lady? So, I kept my venomous words to myself, and instead, at the end of the movie when I stood up, I turned around and faced her and threw her five full seconds worth of straight on shade, in silence. In that shade, I tried to convey that what she had done was in fact, awful, as she had disrupted a fellow Potterhead from fully immersing back into a world that we can normally now only enjoy at home. I don't hope she feels awful, I just hope she understands.
• 9:00 pm - the drive home. The fog had fully taken over, and the closer I got towards the lake, the denser it got. With Broken Bells pulsing out of my car speakers, it felt like I was literally in a dream state. The world was actually a blur. The drive was movement wrapped in mist. It was soothing and yet perfectly eerie.

"Girl take a seat, rest your weary bones..."

Whether today was a wonderful day, or just a strange one, is probably a moot point. For ups and downs, it just...was. It was a Sunday. Not sure what kind of mood it has put, or kept me in, but I'll take it for what it was: another day gone by.