Next year, having learned my lesson, I'm going to turn down all meeting requests from August 15 to November 1: there's no time in this span to sit still if you're trying to meet all the fall grant-proposal deadlines. Yesterday and today were especially crazed, both being 12-hour days which mixed a visit to campus by representatives of an important prospective donor with myriad almost-too-late revisions to a big outgoing proposal. The site visit went well, but I'm happy to see its endless details in the rear view mirror, and have the chance to focus this weekend on ironing out the proposal so that we can submit it on Monday.
Given all that, I had to go back to the office tonight to drop off the campus car I'd been using with the site visitors and to take care of the miscellany that I haven't been able to do during the day - email, filing, paperwork, et cetera. After a couple hours, I was back on an even keel and decided to head home. Going outside to my bike, I realized I'd forgotten the reflective vest that I wear when riding near or after dark. "Shit. But I have lights on the bike and I can ride in the streetlights." When I got to my bike, I found that I hadn't locked it to the post, only run my cable lock through the front wheel and frame. "Oh, well, Nobody will steal it, since they can't ride it like this." I flipped on my tail light, then flicked the headlight - which didn't come on, because the battery was cold and dead. "Uh... This won't make it easy to see or be seen." Reaching down to undo the lock, the key snapped off like a turkey wishbone. Finally, I got it: I'm not supposed to be riding my bike home.
I gave Shannon a quick call to tell her I'll be a little bit later than I expected, and headed off on a more-or-less straight walk home via the Arb. And that's where the evening got better. I passed a few couples on the Hill of Three Oaks, snuggling under blankets, enjoying the nearly-full moon. In the woods, the cool darkness was broken up by pools of shimmering moonlight, bright enough that I could read my watch. I heard a lot of animals in the foliage, and even saw a few somethings dart across the path ahead of me. The low areas were smoky with rising fog. All too soon, I traversed the Arb and emerged on a road near our house - a road that runs by two different cemeteries, both of which looked utterly serene in the moonlight. A couple cars whooshed past me on the final stretch into the subdivision, and I heard geese honking somewhere, but otherwise it was perfectly still and quiet - the ideal end to a too-hectic day.