Drying out

The clothes in the dryer don't know when their cycle is over.

They just keep riding the spin until it stops. 

Sometimes, the towel or shirt is comfortably pressed against the spinning cylinder. Sometimes they are falling, only to crash to the bottom of the dryer. 

Occasionally, they're mixed up with a dirty old sock. Sometimes, they're with some silky unmentionables. 

And, sometimes, someone might stick another quarter in the machine to keep things going. 

But, eventually, the cycle will end. The dryer will stop spinning. And the clothes will be removed, fluffed, folded and put away. 

Clearing

I left the house at 9:41 p.m. and before making it to the end of the street, I encountered the fog.

The cliche is "thick as pea soup."

I'd argue this ground cloud was on par with clam chowder. 

Even after leaving the neighborhood, there were dense patches on the winding, hilly road. 

A little more than an hour later, I was driving back. 

The fog was gone. In fact, the sky had become so clear, I could see my old pal, Orion. Jupiter (I think) was glowing brightly, too.

And I could see farther down the winding, hilly road. 

It struck me: What a difference an hour makes.

Dots

I was in need of comfort and guidance. Google gave me this.

"You can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life."

— Steve Jobs