So my "road music" at the moment is the librivox.org recording of an unabridged edition of Dumas' The Count of Monte Christo (which I've long wanted to read, but find much more managable in audio form). It never struck me previously, in any of the various dramatized forms I've been exposed to, quite how much of a Mary Sue Edmund Dantes is.
It is dark, but the sky is ablaze with the full moon reflecting off the clouds. Over the conversations of my campground neighbors, I can hear the tiny lapping of lake water. In the distance, the coyotes are singing and an occasional duck complains and grumbles. There's woodsmoke in the air, interlaced with the sharp perfume of the mosquito repellant. In one hand I have a mug of hot spiced cidar, in the other ... why yes, I'm sitting here in the wilderness enjoying a delightfully high-speed 3G connection on my iPhone. No I am not pathetic, I'm not I'm not.
ETA: To the sensory postcard, add a flash of lightning and rumble of thunder. Time to brush my teeth and go to bed.![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
