I decided to go to Charleston this weekend. First I wanted to take the ferry out to Bull Island. But Paul and Ross couldn't go, and the weather forecast was highly discouraging. I didn't feel all that eager to get up at 6 am to drive two hours to pay $40 to get thundershowered on. So then I was just going to go down to lay lilies on my mom's grave, something I had wanted to do since last summer but couldn't. However, the forecast was the same, and Charleston was having the Bridge Run where the Cooper River Bridge is closed for people to run across it. Traffic snarls were a certainty.
Common sense would have said to do it another day. There was nothing sacred about Saturday except that I had said I was going to do it today. So dammit I went. Rain proved minimal, as were traffic disruptions. Granted, I canceled the other goal of the trip, going to Whole Foods in Mount Pleasant for gluten-free cookies, due to the Cooper River Bridginess of that journey. But I got to see Rheta and her baby Thomas, and I got to see the Morris Island Lighthouse and what's become of Folly Beach after all these years. It was a lovely time, and maybe being a little autistic is OK.
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