It seems like I write about going fishing because of women problems more than I should. (Here and here, for past reference). Today I seem to be singing the same song. There’s no major damage, but it’s still pretty damn frustrating. No one wants to hear that “there just isn’t a spark”.
That has got to be just about the lamest brush off line ever.
I don’t understand women. I am not convinced that any guy really does. Fish, however, are another matter. They at least are a hell of a lot more simple.
Any and all of life’s problems and issues can be solved on the river with a fly rod in hand. There is no better salve for the soul than moving water and rising trout. So after I finish hacking my way through this post (I don’t write too well when I’m frustrated), Shane and I are loading up the Subaru and heading somewhere. Some days you just need to drive until you have driven far enough and fish where ever you end up.
I have a feeling that the bottle of gin and some tonic water and lime might be going along…
