Lately I’m feeling prone to moody detours.
By definition, detours take us out of our way. They prolong our journeys, routing us through places we hadn’t anticipated visiting.
When we encounter a detour, work is often in progress to address its cause. Someone’s sawing up the fallen tree and moving the logs. Someone’s filling the pothole. Someone’s cleaning up the metal and glass.
The metaphor falls apart right about there. I don’t think a crew is removing obstacles and smoothing our mental roads while we brood. (And if they were, that might be a little worrisome in and of itself.)
But going somewhere unexpected can be good.
Even if it’s because we couldn’t get where we wanted to be the way we planned.