I was reminded Sunday night that it was already edging toward Monday morning, when my wristwatch read just after midnight but my laptop clock read 1:15. Minor inconvenience it is to reset my watch and deal with the post forward sleepiness that will accompany work through this week.
Especially minor when considering what is around the corner. With ice already beginning to melt, spring means packing a rod and reel with me, along with my lunch, to work every day, finishing work in the now early afternoon and spending the rest of my day near the water.
I think these brief afternoon trips have kept me sane, alive, and most definitely married. I have occasionally found that the planning of a multi-day or even a day-long fishing trip can be as much fun as the actual quest — comparing notes with friends, arranging tackle, tying on lures, gassing up the boat. It’s all about anticipation.
But the afterwork venture — that’s predicated on pure desire. A handful of lures, one rod, and a pair of needle-nose pliers. That’s all the supplies one needs. And these trips don’t need a fish. They don’t even need a strike. All they need is just a few casts in the general direction of where a fish might be.
And when the ripples begin to swim away from my lure, I am once again reminded what these long afternoons are for. To be reminded of those days from my youth, when I had nowhere to be, when I had all the time in the world, and when no one expected to see me until the streetlights came on.
Just like now.