The morning started with a disappointing visit to the dermatologist. It was my first visit with her and she seemed a perfectly nice woman although when I asked to get this pesky little moley blemish removed, she deemed it cosmetic and informed me my insurance would not cover it. My face clouded and I wanted to slap her. I didn't.

After paying $15.00 to the parking attendant for my forty-five minute useless visit to the unslapped doctor, I pulled out into the swirling drama of the day's weather. Driving through downtown on K Street, there were little leaf tornadoes that whipped up spontaneously all around my car. A gust would move my Explorer a little to the right then left, and I thrilled at being on an unexpected carny ride.

Large sweeps of leaves covered the otherwise blue sky only to settle for a moment of rest before they took flight again. Wings without birds, these last vestiges of summer are kicking up their heels and taking to the skies with a mind of their own. It was kooky watching them, and I wanted to find myself the biggest pile of leaves and belly flop into them, taking in their musky earth smell.

But I didn’t. I drove straight to the office and wished the entire way I had a CD of Tubular Bells.

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