It all started with Boulder, as it should have.
And it continued onto I-70 west when I got lost just as Adam Durtiz was singing I can't find my way home... while I found myself on an unlit back road somewhere north of the moon and east of the mountains, next to nothing I know for sure.
And it didn't stop there.
It found me next to a small window in my parent's house.
And continued to stay with me there in the form of the most outrageous summer snow I've ever witnessed.
I don't expect it to stop anytime soon, nor do I wish such a thing.