I’d swear I’ve been having a day-long stroke today. It’s been like touring Wonderland without the benefits of dropping acid first.
I woke up to a diabetic cat ranting that she had normal (for her) blood sugar. The news on the radio this morning couldn’t have been more infuriating with people making outrageous claims and reporters just letting them hang there like they were obvious facts.
The commute to work confused me more with lots of people I don’t recall seeing before crowding the first bus. I missed the second bus because people couldn’t figure out simple transactions at a convenience store where I grabbed a couple of things to make the morning tolerable.
That actually worked out all right, though. I thought I was going to be late for work, but the next bus that came along got me to the light rail station in central Phoenix in plenty of time. I didn’t think that would happen because the automated phone system I used to tell me when the next bus was coming was off by 15 minutes. Thank goodness I just stayed put and waited.
But, then my workday just added to my confusion. I was dealing with paperwork that made no sense because the people that filled it out overcomplicated the process beyond reason. Computer programs refused to respond, then would magically work just fine as if nothing had gone wrong with them.
Then there was the lunch truck. Usually a pretty good experience, this time the man running the truck had no menu visible, ran out of some foods, and took forever to serve up food that wasn’t fully cooked. At least he gave me a discount for having to wait so long.
The ride home was just plain odd. It’s like someone declared this afternoon “Spontaneous Performing Arts Day”. One man on the light rail train emoted a long, silent soliloquy while someone else sang, with ever increasing volume, about Jehovah. On the last bus toward home, a Spike Lee lookalike sported a St. Louis Rams shirt and cap along with some amazingly bad (not in a good way) looking bling as he bobbed his head in rhythm to the music from the Sony Walkman CD player he clutched in one hand while constantly checking the flip phone he held in the other. A stack of CDs slowly moved toward collapse on the seat next to him.
On the walk from the bus stop to home, I heard some jangling behind me. I glanced back and thought I saw someone on a bike, so I moved over. As I turned the corner, I saw that what I thought was a cyclist was actually a woman decked out like she’d just walked out of the 1980s with the leg warmers, clanky bangles, big hair, and a light colored bandana I’d mistaken out of the corner of my eye for a helmet. She wished me a nice evening.
Can’t wait to find out what dreams I’ll have tonight. That’s assuming the cats settle down enough to allow me to sleep.
