the story of a not particularly happy day

Am in New Jersey. Yay?

I left myself 40 minutes to walk to the bus station this morning, and ended up needing 35 of them. This is because I'd forgotten that the extendable handle on my suitcase is broken. I ended up carrying it part of the way, crouching down to drag it with the regular handle, pulling up somebody's abandoned campaign sign and using the wire as a makeshift leash (but that hurt my hands), and tying a bit of plastic packing cord into a makeshift loop/leash. About a block and a half from the bus station, the plastic finally stretched too far and broke, at which point I picked up the suitcase and... not ran, exactly, but lumbered the last yards to the ticket counter, with five minutes to spare.

That seems to have made me look irresponsible and flustered enough that the ticket guy assumed I was a student and gave me the cheaper rate. I feel as though I ought to feel guilty about that, but frankly, I find it hard to work up the proper sense of shame. It had just started to rain, I was hot, tired, flushed, sweaty, and massively irritated (at both myself and the damn suitcase), I hadn't slept particularly well (I never do, before trips), and it's hard for me to feel guilty when I'm busy feeling that the world is in a pick-on-Liz mood.

Then, of course, I got a crick in my neck from the oddly shaped seats, the driver kept the bus about 5 degrees too cool, and the bus arrived in Ridgewood 35 minutes early, whereupon I had to wait 25 minutes in the cold, the rain, and the wind until my dad drove up -- he was 10 minutes early according to the official schedule, but still. All this does not make for a happy Liz.

In half an hour, I will help my dad move furniture out of my old room and into my sister's bedroom, which is currently stripped bare as part of the ongoing effort to kill its mildew infestation and make sure it never comes back. Once we get all the crap moved, we'll lay down two mattresses, which Vicky and I will sleep on. Ardis gets the guest room, with the actual bed, because she is both our guest and, y'know, old. :-)


ETA: Wah, they're making me go help pick up Vicky because they say the 'directions are complicated and you're a good navigator.' Boo hiss. I don't want to be riding around in the dark attempting to read stupid maps! *whines some more*

the story of a not particularly happy day

Am in New Jersey. Yay?

I left myself 40 minutes to walk to the bus station this morning, and ended up needing 35 of them. This is because I'd forgotten that the extendable handle on my suitcase is broken. I ended up carrying it part of the way, crouching down to drag it with the regular handle, pulling up somebody's abandoned campaign sign and using the wire as a makeshift leash (but that hurt my hands), and tying a bit of plastic packing cord into a makeshift loop/leash. About a block and a half from the bus station, the plastic finally stretched too far and broke, at which point I picked up the suitcase and... not ran, exactly, but lumbered the last yards to the ticket counter, with five minutes to spare.

That seems to have made me look irresponsible and flustered enough that the ticket guy assumed I was a student and gave me the cheaper rate. I feel as though I ought to feel guilty about that, but frankly, I find it hard to work up the proper sense of shame. It had just started to rain, I was hot, tired, flushed, sweaty, and massively irritated (at both myself and the damn suitcase), I hadn't slept particularly well (I never do, before trips), and it's hard for me to feel guilty when I'm busy feeling that the world is in a pick-on-Liz mood.

Then, of course, I got a crick in my neck from the oddly shaped seats, the driver kept the bus about 5 degrees too cool, and the bus arrived in Ridgewood 35 minutes early, whereupon I had to wait 25 minutes in the cold, the rain, and the wind until my dad drove up -- he was 10 minutes early according to the official schedule, but still. All this does not make for a happy Liz.

In half an hour, I will help my dad move furniture out of my old room and into my sister's bedroom, which is currently stripped bare as part of the ongoing effort to kill its mildew infestation and make sure it never comes back. Once we get all the crap moved, we'll lay down two mattresses, which Vicky and I will sleep on. Ardis gets the guest room, with the actual bed, because she is both our guest and, y'know, old. :-)


ETA: Wah, they're making me go help pick up Vicky because they say the 'directions are complicated and you're a good navigator.' Boo hiss. I don't want to be riding around in the dark attempting to read stupid maps! *whines some more*