Wrong, wrong time

to have my bag stolen.

I had to take the day off work to go look for it. When It wasn't where I last saw it, there was the hair raising ride back on gas fumes; the police report; the DMV (indignant that I felt indignant for paying 21 dollars because my license was stolen); the hunt through the house for a second picture ID; the credit card companies, you know.

And that bag meant something to me- not only was it a damn nice bag, but it traveled with me on the trains through Poland. Auschwitz, Katowice, Mysłowice, Warsaw. It was just large enough to hold a change of clothes and a days' worth of food and drink, and I could sling it across my chest to fit in the small of my back. It had the wallet I bought in Krakow too- change purse, and just acquiring that patina of sweat and smoothness from a year in my back pocket. Take the credit cards, give me back my equipment.

Yeah, I had plans for the day...big breakfast, maybe take some stuff to Sacramento. Heavy lifting is out, since I sliced my finger nice and deep. But I did have plans. Damn it. Now I'm plan-less, day-less, and broke.

Not completely plan-less. I sat in front of the 'puter, doing all the organizational stuff I never have the brain for after a workday, and the heart for on a weekend. And I'm relaxed, which never happens on a weekday without plenty of post Eastern Bloc beer.

For my next amazing trick, good-by hike 164597 in Black Diamond Regional Park (http://www.bahiker.com/eastbayhikes/bdm.html). Truly, home away from home.