To avoid the monotony of unemployment, I decided to attempt to enjoy the day before my seasonal affective disorder strikes. Early this morning (9:30 a.m. which is early when you don’t have to be into work until 4 p.m.) a friend and I, my partner in joblessness, strolled through the Quogue Wildlife Refuge—a nature preserve that is open 365 days a year with hiking trails that border forests, ponds, and all its natural inhabitants. The last time I was here I was about three feet tall clenching a piece of white bread and running for my life while my father swatted killer swans with his video camera. Regardless, this was a beautiful free way to enjoy the sunshine, catch up with a friend, and get some exercise.
Upon returning home, I warmed up some homemade chiptole black bean soup (which of course I did not make it) and flipped through the pages of the October Issue of Women’s Health. There on page 15 was a statistic telling me that I am 38 percent more likely to be in shape or want to exercise if I live in an aesthetically pleasing location. Well, if that’s the case I should be dying to be an avid runner or have the body of a Victoria secret model. Neither of which are true.
Taking this into consideration (partially to avoid boredom and partially to work off the cashew butter sandwich I ate for breakfast) my father and I hoped on our bikes for some serious bonding time and site seeing.
I never really took the time to admire the beauty I am surrounded by, especially at this time of year. I was always counting down the days until fraternity parties and bar hopping that I have never really seen the Hamptons in September. Other people look out their windows to decrepit apartment buildings or dilapidated parks pushed aside and abandoned. Not me. Here, white picket fences line Old Country Road like they're framing a perfect picture of suburbia and almost every road in Remsenburg ends in the bay. I can see it from my brother's bedroom.
I never really took the time to admire the beauty I am surrounded by, especially at this time of year. I was always counting down the days until fraternity parties and bar hopping that I have never really seen the Hamptons in September. Other people look out their windows to decrepit apartment buildings or dilapidated parks pushed aside and abandoned. Not me. Here, white picket fences line Old Country Road like they're framing a perfect picture of suburbia and almost every road in Remsenburg ends in the bay. I can see it from my brother's bedroom.
This is the Hamptons. This is when you reach that part of Sunrise Highway when the exits mysteriously start getting further away from each other and the lampposts are replaced with deer crossing signs, when you see more cottontails than cars, and when you can go to the beach on your lunch break. It is truly a magically pristine place and by simply taking the time to enjoy the day I got my daily dose of exercise, Vitamin D and serenity.
P.S. I am more or less transcribing this post off a cocktail napkin. It was a relatively slow night at the hostess station.
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