A mad dash this morning has me in my big green chariot and out of breath.
I mistakenly slept in until 5:52.
Typically I wake up, without an alarm, right before 5.
Can our heroine make it to her 6:18 train, even though a 6:48 might be more appropriate?
Yes. Yes she can.
No time for small talk today. Just run up the stairs like and flail around like the ignorant folk from Bronte.
I wonder if my twin would be proud?
I wonder if they should award me hotdogs? Or doughnuts?
I mull this over and make a mental note that the ice cream shop near my work has a “Funell cakes coming soon!” poster.
“Amazing! That sounds like lunch or breakfast to me!”
“How soon? About as soon as I will drive to work?”
I quit arguing with myself.
I’ve been told it makes other commuters uncomfortable.
It’s ok. I won anyway.
I sit in my usual perch, survey my surroundings and realize, I’m likely the best dressed person on the train, despite having seconds to prepare.
So what if the train is virtually empty?
I sense another slew on hurtful insults coming on, and then I see this sign:
A further look and I make the following observations:
I didn’t realize he was part Italian, but the hand gesturing, loud talking and results from Ancestry.com might have given it away.
Also, the blank awareness pin on his lapel speaks volumes.
I think it should say: “I should GO…I don’t have a Clue!” but then realize I’m not being paid to run communications just yet.
Once the Execs from the Hot Dog company and Bun Corporation read my blog, then I’m a shoe in! Or a Clue-in.
Moving along, we have this guy:
I’m glad his penchant for manspreading wasn’t a focal point of Blue Jays games in the 90’s. I didn’t realize there was enough room in the dugout to do that.
I enjoy how he’s still staying true to his old career, signalling a slider up and in on the left side.
Or maybe he’s giving Colonel Mustard the green light:
“Does that sound racist?”
“When did you grow a conscience?!”
“Big word there!”
The arguing isn’t up to par today.
Moving along, we have the following person to complete our triumvirate:
Where are her children?
She looks rather upset.
Hmm, if my clothes were that wrinkled and I forgot to accessorize, I would be too.
I make a note to set my alarm tomorrow morning, self doubt creeping in.
I enjoy how Lynette pretends to not want to listen to the flirtation, yet she’s in the best possible position for eavesdropping.
She really should switch seats with Colonel Mustard.
It would give her a better vantage point to take pictures and share with their spouses.
After all, pictures are louder than words, even on GO transit.