Holler’s Weekend Report 🐾

Holler had big plans this weekend. Real big. Written nowhere. Remembered by no one.

Saturday started the only way Holler knows how — coffee strong enough to stand a spoon in, boots by the door, and the confident announcement that he was “just gonna run out for a bit.” Nobody’s seen that line end well before.

Ten minutes in, Holler was already off-route. A road he’d driven a hundred times somehow felt different, so obviously he followed it. That led to a trail, which led to an overlook, which led to Holler sitting on the tailgate wondering how long it’d take someone to notice if he just stayed there all day.

Eventually, hunger won. Holler stopped at a gas station that sold bait, beef jerky, and opinions. He walked out with a soda, a bag of jerky, and a full report on why the fishing “used to be better” back in ’98.

Naturally, that meant fishing was next.

Three hours later, Holler hadn’t caught a thing — but he had perfected the art of skipping rocks, talked to a guy named Dave who swore the big ones only bite on Tuesdays, and declared the spot “definitely promising, just not today.”

Sunday was supposed to be productive.

It started with Holler saying, “I’ll just clean up the yard real quick.” Somehow that turned into stacking firewood that was already stacked, fixing a fence that wasn’t broken, and sitting down “for just a minute” in a chair that clearly had other plans.

Two hours later, Holler woke up holding his coffee mug, sunburned on one arm, and unsure what year it was.

By Sunday evening, Holler called it a successful weekend:

• Plans? Ignored.

• Fish? Unimpressed.

• Yard? Technically touched.

• Coffee? Reheated twice.

• Memories? Solid.

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And as Holler likes to say — if you didn’t rush, didn’t stress, and didn’t catch a fish… you probably did it right.

Holler Approved. 🐾