It’s a song. Switch a word (traveler for hobo) and you have a Madison eatery. Or a bar. Or something. You also have me, a person who is weary just from facing questions about how the months ahead will play out. I have great thoughts about it, but very little idea about how the contours and pieces will fit into place.
At the Weary Traveler last night, I ate my Andes sandwich and I drank a German beer and I thought that I need to get going. Tired of planning, of lists, of trying not to forget details. My weariness will leave. When I am finally on the road. In a couple of days.