lithera | Lovely, lovely...

So, yes mom, I like the quilt. Finding it at home when I got there helped save Tuesday from continuing to spiral into a horrible mess.

Tuesday. I leave a little before noon so I can get home. I go out to my bus stop which I have been assured by Metro is the correct place to wait for my bus. On the way there I slip and fall. Not hurt, amused, in fact. I listen to the Peter Pan soundtrack. It is full of wonder. I wait. I wait. Waiting. I get impatient and decide to go look for a 41 to get to Northgate. I can get home from Northgate too.

I go down into the bus tunnel. It is warmer there and it is not snowing on me. So. I wait here for a 41. My cd player runs out of batteries. I sigh and wait some more. I start talking to people. I find out that there have been 41s going the other way but none coming back.

I wait. More. More. More. Every other bus possible comes by. Still no 41. I haven't eaten anything other than a croissant and it is well past time for lunch. My emotional state starts to fall apart and I want to cry but I don't. I talk more to the people waiting for the 41. We see 41s go the other way. I talk more to people who are waiting and find that they'd been waiting for my normal bus too and hadn't found one.

A 194 comes out way and the people at the other side of the tunnel yell to the bus driver begging him to come back and pick them up. At the same time a 41 goes by on their side. I start to slide backwards in years, feeling cranky and hungry. I'm willing to take anything going north at this point. No buses going north are going past 85th, which does me no good or I would grab one of them.

I've been waiting somewhere around 2 hours when I see a 41 go the other way and I point at it, jump up and down and say something mostly incomprehensible. Five minutes later a 41 comes. It is mostly full, though we are the second stop in the tunnel.

The trip to Northgate take about 20 minutes. Not too bad. I get off at Northgate and look around, confusedly trying to find a way home. There are no 5s going north. I ask a supervisor what I should do. He points me to a 345. I get on the blessedly warm bus. (I'd been freezing and wet.) The driver tells all of use we're not going anywhere due to the chains having been messed up. I go out and help with the knot in them, though I mostly just stand there.

The chains are fixed and the driver starts off pointing out a 5 to me and asking if I want to take it instead. I say I'm fine where I'm at and call home. I babble at Sean and try to gather my scatteredness. The bus driver offers me food after hearing I hadn't had anything. We stop the bus and fix the chains again and then he vaults back on the bus saying, "Can you believe they pay me to drive in weather like this? I'd do it for free." On the way we passed the 5 I would have been on jack-knifed and not going anywhere among many other abandoned and stranded busses.

Between him and my mom's quilt waiting at home I wan't a total wreck when I got home, though it was close. As it was when I got home I couldn't feel my feet and was somewhat delusional. And I picked up a lovely cold in there somewhere.

I love snow. I just don't love having to travel in it.