Thoughts while buying eggs for the kitchen

Some days, especially when it is cloudy and the blowing wind more chilly than usual, I like to take a stroll around the village. I would go to the farthest streets, from end to end, with no clear path in mind. Simply, I would think, I ought to let my feet lead me to wherever, which is often the longest routes of varied permutations. There would be neither time as well, but I would always end up back home at the right moment. I try to bring with me nothing: no thoughts, just an empty brain, and pocket. Any sort of bag would just hurt my shoulders anyway.

I believe that is the case for most days. Usually after I walk the dogs in the afternoon, I bring them back home and I take until the evening alone, circling the village with all the houses that never seem to differ so much on streets that never stayed the same. Some days they glow blue; some days it feels like sunset yellow. Cicadas often sing, often shout, often share melodies that do not always make sense to me.

Yet these days, those do not seem to be the case. It has been a while since I last took a walk for leisure, a stroll for no reason. I get up in the morning knowing exactly where to go, in the afternoon exactly when to go; today I went outside at noon to buy eggs for the kitchen.

The thought of going out for errands used to stress me out often. I do not like clear instructions, or instructions in general. Do not tell me what to do and when. Going out is best done with and when there is nothing else to do.

But today, I went outside to buy eggs for the kitchen. And that short walk in my street had been my comfort for the rest of the day.

What is it in those steps I took in the grayish grass of this empty road? Why do I now think I would rather walk to buy more eggs again than go around the block this afternoon? I know such feelings would pass, but what had caused the change?

I know the answers, some of the possibilities at least. I buy eggs about once a week, but every time it feels like a routine for the day-to-day. I remember the first time I left the house to buy eggs at the neighbours: I was anxious, both because I did not want to interact with anyone and because I worried about bringing the eggs home—how do I not break any of them on the way?