It’s February in Houston… that means cold, wet, dreary weather. Yes, that actually happens here! It also means we get a couple of absolutely gorgeous days in between the drab. Yes, that too happens here. For the first day in almost two weeks, the forecasters called for mostly sunny skies and a 0% chance of precipitation. The high was supposed to be in the high 70’s.
A little over a year ago, my group’s administrative assistant flexed her muscles and found me a window office. I love my windows, but sometimes I feel like I can’t enjoy them. My computer monitor faces away from the windows, or I’d sit and stare out the window most of the day. I enjoy daydreaming as much as the next person, but I suspect my employer doesn’t. 
Anyway, I could tell by lunchtime that today was a day not meant for meaningless chatter on conference calls and hurried work in front of a computer screen (facing away from the window, no less). This is a day to be outside. As Houstonians know, we only get a few genuinely pleasant days during the year!
As the clock crept past 3 pm, I kept glancing behind me at the sunny skies and green trees. That’s one thing I love about Houston… green trees, even in the winter. Finally, at 4:30 I decided I couldn’t take it any longer. The day was calling to me.
I call this a moonroof day. One of those days when you say, “to hell with the hairdo!” and open the moonroof and all of the windows. Well, except for the driver’s side, which is only opened part of the way. I can’t let go of my hairdo THAT much.
As I pull out of the dark parking garage, it’s as if the day is finally welcoming me. For the first time today, I feel no pressure, no hurry. On the drive home, I take the long way around. And because U2 is making the drive that much more pleasant, I decide to take a turn -off, just to see where it goes. We’ve lived here over a year, and I still haven’t driven around the backroads of town much.
I end up hitting several deadends, but that’s okay. No worries. The back way home helped me avoid the rush-hour idiots on Highway 249. The houses are lovely, the lawns are lush and green, and the horses are contentedly grazing behind the quaint white and brown wooden fences.
Back here I can drive just fast enough that air is rushing through my hair and swirling around my body in the cab of the car, but not so fast it’s too loud or windy.
U2 tells me it’s a beautiful day. Happily, I agree and join in the chorus.
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