dreams of yippie heaven

My current (half-hearted, ill-fated) attempt at exercise is to head out for a morning bike ride through Hyde Park. I fill up my Camelback, set my watch alarm to go off in a half-hour, and cruise the neighborhood.

I may not be getting much of a workout, but it gives me time to sightsee (ogle the funky houses and coo at people’s cats) and think (talk to myself). Today was a beautiful morning, cool and breezy after a few days of rain, everything washed clean and dappled in sunlight.

I pondered the lives of these people with wildflower lawns and antique VW wagons and came to the conclusion that, while I may not harbor yuppie dreams of a McMansion, wealthy husband, convertible Mercedes, and babies (not that that will surprise any of my friends), I do have a clear vision of yippie contentment: a purple Craftsman bungalow in a neighborhood dotted with “American for Peace” signs and rainbow flags, front porch with wind chimes, sporty little hatchback, and ten cats.

I am, of course, currently moving in the exact opposite direction from that vision… I don’t know that purple would go over that well in Senegal.

And then there’s this:

One of the saddest sights I’ve seen in a while. One of you should jump on it right now—2/1 on Duval, pre-leasing for August. Great house, great location, and a swanky red wall in the living room that we really don’t want to have to paint over 😉