Whenever I'm waiting for test results, even minor ones, I find myself drifting off into thinking about all the other people out there waiting for test results too. This whole community, connected by nothing more than bitten fingernails and escalating imaginary conversations, tons and tons of people all hoping for good news. And how for some portion of those people life is about to change forever, while the rest will soon move past and forget this blip.
Mornings when the fog covers the Space Needle are always uncomfortable mornings for me, because the Space Needle is so much a part of my daily routine--one of the first things I do when I wake up is look out the window, at the lake and the Needle, to make sure that nothing has happened to my city overnight. (And to check if it's raining.) I am less uneasy when fog covers the whole of Lake Union and makes everything look like a Japanese horror movie. I expect things to go wrong then, but with only the Needle covered there's no telling what only the sky could do.
Yesterday the fog was thick on the lake, but not thick enough to completely hide a line of boats with Christmas lights floating slowly north. In fact, from here I could likely see them better than they could see themselves.
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