Going to See a Man About a Dog

I hate being asked by anyone where I'm going.

I hate being asked by anyone what I'm doing.

I hate being asked to explain, why I do things.

That doesn't translate to the most friendly facial expressions for the roomie sometimes, nor does it translate into pleasant conversations for some others.

I don't know it's just the way I am.

Sometimes I want to scream you're not coming, you can't do what I do, and I'm doing me and flying free!

I remember when I used to pepper my grandparents with questions.

Me:
"Grandma, where you going?"

My Grandmother:
"I'm going to see a man about a dog."

Mind you she used this for years, and we never once saw a dog.

Me:
"Granddad can I go with you? Can I go for a ride?"

My Grandfather:
"I'm not coming right back."

So now I rarely ask questions. I guess I saw how annoying that could be.

The last two days after work I've walked back to school from campus though I could have possibly gotten a ride from a co-worker or taken the school's shuttle back to campus. Instead I made the 10 minute walk back to campus. Yesterday it was just dumb cause it was chilly. I used the time to talk to one of my bestfriends for a few minutes, and then to just clear my mind. Today it was a little muddy, but I used the time to talk to my mother. There was something freeing about walking, stretching my legs, allowing my legs to carry me where they may.