Dreamy.

So this is what happened.

Over the weekend I had to drive to the D.C. area to my Moms house ’cause my brother and me had to replace a big bay window in her kitchen.

We’d  been trying to do this for about three years now, and being the dutiful loving sons we are, we were finally gonna get it down before she, like, died?

So anyway, I left around 5 on Saturday morning, drove up and we worked on it and got it done around 5 that evening then we all went out to dinner and then I went back to my brother’s and his cupcakes’ place and then we drank some more and then none of this was the dreamy part.

The dreamy part happened on the way home.

Driving south on I95 in the pre-dawn darkness I decided to get off the super slab and take Route 17. Just as I merged onto 17 I finished listening to a particularly crappy book on CD (Dance, Dance, Dance by some Japanese dude- don’t ever get it and don’t never ever waste your time reading it- trust me) and so instead of starting another book I flipped over to Sirius/XM and dialed up Coffeehouse.

For those of you that don’t know, Coffeehouse is the channel that plays acoustic versions of songs performed by other artists. Think Pink Floyd by Natalie Merchant. Think Dave Matthews doing Bruce Springsteen covers. Think solo acoustic versions of the Counting Crows.

Flow the dreamy part.

It’d been years since I’d driven 17 and I’d forgotten just how beautifully desolate and lonely and completely bypassed Route 17 was and is. I’m driving along all alone on this forgotten piece of highway and I’m rolling up and down the rolling road, watching the sun slowly rise and warm the frost, and I’m listening to these sad seeming songs and I completely lost myself.

It was the most peaceful and tranquil two hours I can remember in this turbulently busy year. I’m pretty sure it was a combination of lack of sleep and surfeit of alcohol, but it was transcendental. It was Zen-like. It was serene and it was ephemeral. I just drove and flowed and listened. I could’ve driven on and on like that. For hours. For days. For weeks.

It was dreamy.