We feel the the apartment is cramping our style. And, since Indiana has decided to launch without hesitation into summer, our lack of yard space is really a downer. Each day this week, we've watched the mercury rise and we've explored our options...
ME: Hey, what about going to this park? We've never been.
MY HUSBAND: Oh, I don't know about that. What about just taking a trike ride around our old neighborhood. (Which ironically we could; after we sold our house, we literally moved into the apartment complex across the street. How's that for confusing?)
ME: We can do that any old day. What about doing something special since it's the weekend? Like maybe the new park at the art museum? We could take the stroller and enjoy a nice walk...
So, yesterday my suggestion won out. We did try the new art museum. And, it was great, thank you.
We hopped into the Jeep afterward, fully satiated. by nature's early bounty.
I gazed out the window as we began our short trek home, reflecting on the many random fishermen we'd seen at the river and small lakes which bordered the art museum's grounds. My eyes, somewhat disconnected from these thoughts, began registering new information.
Before full analysis, I began to speak. "Oh, look. More fishermen have set up shop under the bridge there," I remarked as I surveyed an assortment of jumbled blankets, a folding lawnchair, and an ugly blue tarp tethered to the bridge's underbelly. I'm pretty sure at that point my brain looked more like the scrolling pictures on a slot machine face...desperately trying to make a match. My background information told me this was not a Saturday spot for recreational anglers.
"Those aren't fishermen, are they?" I inquired without genuinely wanting an answer. It would hurt too much.
"Do you know how many homeless people live under bridges? It's really pretty common," my husband offered...a wealth of factual information.
Our car sped along and the flowering trees displayed this spring's glory. My mind also sped along, considering what life under a bridge must really be like. It's not anything I want to spend any more than a couple seconds creating, for sure. But, yet, I was drawn in. Talk about a living situation cramping one's style...
Quietly I rode. I considered my own narrow parameters --- a yard, a bigger space, storage, a kitchen with an island. I shrank, embarrassed.
I don't live under a bridge...