My wife and I spent a not inconsiderable amount of time yesterday in the capital of the state of Connecticut, Hartford. Before we lived in The Nutmeg State I believe I thought the capital was Bridgeport or perhaps New Haven, both extremely well-known cities in the Northeast and both considerably larger than Hartford which, to give it its due, successfully fights above its weight class. We live in Norwich, a city of about forty thousand, closer to Rhode Island than it is to Hartford so for us (especially me) anything with glass and steel that goes up more than thirty floors is 'lookie there, Lurleen! Big City'
We were attempting to close one chapter in the novel of our lives and open another. Sort of one of those 'aim for the moon and the stars and if you miss, you at least have the stars' types of endings unless you have a handful of ashes. The two of us have had some turbulence in the last couple of months, mostly self-inflicted by one of us who let it drag on and on for no other reason than that I didn't know how to get out of the hole so I kept digging (you knew of the two of us, it was going to be me, right? Yeah, that's okay; it's how these things usually go). It was an interesting way to fill up the day though I wouldn't recommend it to everyone.
When I was in the Air Force, the fighter jocks (who never went anywhere near dweebs like me) supposedly had a saying 'any landing you can walk away from is a good one.' Maybe that's why I wore comfortable shoes yesterday. Just in case the distance proves to be greater than first thought.