Saturday would’ve been a great day to go for a paddle in the kayak, if I’d left the house earlier, but after I had my morning coffee and read the morning news and we went to the farmer’s market, I didn’t end up leaving the house for a paddle until about half past twelve. By that time, every goddamn powerboat in Dane County has been launched, and most of them are racing back and forth across Lake Monona as fast as their drivers can make them go. And there’s some kind of music blaring from almost ever other boat that goes past; some boats have hundred-watt speakers mounted on a roll bar over the seats, blaring as loudly as their amplifiers can push them. In my wildest fantasies, I roam the lake in a Fletcher-class destroyer, expertly dropping five-inch artillery shells right through the engines of the most obnoxiously-loud powerboats.
The lake is not a place of quiet contemplation at that hour of the day. Note to self: Go right after you make the coffee. Put some in a travel mug and take it with you.
This Is Drivel 