![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebitterguyTo say the ride home was lousy is to give it too much credit.
Since Snra has a teacher's dinner tonight, YHB was required to take the Bus/train/shoe leather express home tonight.
Bus ride down was good enough. Got to pass time with a decent enough fellow co-worker.
Waiting on the transit platform was hellish. There may be some romance to waiting on a train platform in the rain, but that's only in Paris (and then only if the nazis are marching into town; and I had an umbrella, not a hat).
Every so often, I'd get a flush of spit in my cheeks and under my tongue, like during a wave of nausea. Lunch had been provided at work today, with chicken, veggies, baked potato and bread (and pop, to keep it from being, you know, healthy). I had an upset stomach all afternoon, but never felt ill.
I'd spit out the excess saliva and watch it get carried away by the rainwater.
The train ride home was pleasant enough. I came to the conclusion that my boots are not as waterproof as I'd like them to be. Gotta get me some boot wax.
The last leg of my triathlon of sullen rage was the trip home. Now, Snra never picks me up from the train station (although she frequently picks me up from the adjoining bus station), as the mere fact I've taken the train indicates I have no ride home, so she won't be there to get me.
So, a march home in leaky boots it was. I'd secretly hoped beyond hope that I could get a cab, but when I arrived (along with my fellow commuters) I discovered that cabs don't show up at Milton GO, which makes a certain infuriating sense. Not that I approve, and on the way home I wondered if cabs even serve Milton.
That's important, kids. Remember that.
So, off I go. I have one stop on the way, to pickup a syringe from the vets to give Khem Kat her hairball meds. Of course, they're closed.
Boots are still getting wet, too.
As I pass by the local strip mall, I notice Dominoes. I think two things A) Hey, pizza would be good and B) I wonder if I can get a ride with their delivery guy.
Of course, I don't bother with A), and B) is ludicrous. What are the odds they'll have a driver heading in my direction?
So, on I trek.
There's a path that cuts between some homes (an actual path, with fence and paving, not a shortcut) to one of the cul de sacs near mine. It saves some walking time (and has added puddles. Did I mention the leaky boots?). I also notice at this point that my fingers on the hand holding my umbrella (the left one, for those of you who are keeping track at home) are numbing up.
So, I trudge home.
At this point, insert something poignant about walking in the cold rain beside houses with Christmas decorations sitting on naked trees and hanging from running gutters, floodlights giving off steam as the water lands on them.
As I approach Secord Ct, I notice that there's a guy in shorts. That's ludicrous, I think, being in shorts on a cold night like this.
Well, it would be. If the guy weren't a Dominoes delivery guy.
Guess they were heading my way after all.
Ah, well.
I come up to my own road. It's amusing that there is a sidewalk on the left side of the road, but not the right. So I have to cross the street to walk down the sidewalk. I have to pause, of course, to let the taxi go by.
A taxi. Well, that's two avenues that could have worked.
So, home. Wet. Kinda cranky. Now, I make dinner, a double meat patty w/ fries.
Because Joss only has good ideas.
Next post: Why snow is better than rain. Sometimes.
Since Snra has a teacher's dinner tonight, YHB was required to take the Bus/train/shoe leather express home tonight.
Bus ride down was good enough. Got to pass time with a decent enough fellow co-worker.
Waiting on the transit platform was hellish. There may be some romance to waiting on a train platform in the rain, but that's only in Paris (and then only if the nazis are marching into town; and I had an umbrella, not a hat).
Every so often, I'd get a flush of spit in my cheeks and under my tongue, like during a wave of nausea. Lunch had been provided at work today, with chicken, veggies, baked potato and bread (and pop, to keep it from being, you know, healthy). I had an upset stomach all afternoon, but never felt ill.
I'd spit out the excess saliva and watch it get carried away by the rainwater.
The train ride home was pleasant enough. I came to the conclusion that my boots are not as waterproof as I'd like them to be. Gotta get me some boot wax.
The last leg of my triathlon of sullen rage was the trip home. Now, Snra never picks me up from the train station (although she frequently picks me up from the adjoining bus station), as the mere fact I've taken the train indicates I have no ride home, so she won't be there to get me.
So, a march home in leaky boots it was. I'd secretly hoped beyond hope that I could get a cab, but when I arrived (along with my fellow commuters) I discovered that cabs don't show up at Milton GO, which makes a certain infuriating sense. Not that I approve, and on the way home I wondered if cabs even serve Milton.
That's important, kids. Remember that.
So, off I go. I have one stop on the way, to pickup a syringe from the vets to give Khem Kat her hairball meds. Of course, they're closed.
Boots are still getting wet, too.
As I pass by the local strip mall, I notice Dominoes. I think two things A) Hey, pizza would be good and B) I wonder if I can get a ride with their delivery guy.
Of course, I don't bother with A), and B) is ludicrous. What are the odds they'll have a driver heading in my direction?
So, on I trek.
There's a path that cuts between some homes (an actual path, with fence and paving, not a shortcut) to one of the cul de sacs near mine. It saves some walking time (and has added puddles. Did I mention the leaky boots?). I also notice at this point that my fingers on the hand holding my umbrella (the left one, for those of you who are keeping track at home) are numbing up.
So, I trudge home.
At this point, insert something poignant about walking in the cold rain beside houses with Christmas decorations sitting on naked trees and hanging from running gutters, floodlights giving off steam as the water lands on them.
As I approach Secord Ct, I notice that there's a guy in shorts. That's ludicrous, I think, being in shorts on a cold night like this.
Well, it would be. If the guy weren't a Dominoes delivery guy.
Guess they were heading my way after all.
Ah, well.
I come up to my own road. It's amusing that there is a sidewalk on the left side of the road, but not the right. So I have to cross the street to walk down the sidewalk. I have to pause, of course, to let the taxi go by.
A taxi. Well, that's two avenues that could have worked.
So, home. Wet. Kinda cranky. Now, I make dinner, a double meat patty w/ fries.
Because Joss only has good ideas.
Next post: Why snow is better than rain. Sometimes.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-12-11 05:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-12-11 07:14 am (UTC)Snow at -2 degrees is better than rain at +2 degrees. Rain at +20 degrees, however, is better than snow at -20 degrees.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-11 12:35 pm (UTC)Now snow on the other hand. Well, even if its minus twenty out, well snow won't get me wet. Minus twenty I can deal with. Being wet for a day at work for example I cannot.
no subject
Date: 2004-12-11 03:59 pm (UTC)I can handle being wet and warm (although, admittedly, I need to be able to get dry when I want to) more than snowed on and really, really cold.