Lane markers in the sky

Back when I worked 9-5, I used to sit on my third floor porch and watch the sun set over the trees and houses to the west.

I always loved watching jets mark the sky with their contrails, like moments frozen in a time lapse photographer's lense. My enjoyment of those little white fingers in the heavens lasted until my roommate told me that the contrail is actually pollution.

Sometimes, the less you know about something, the easier it is to be happy about it.