Life in the Laughing Lane

30 Sep

IMG_1138Americans are amazing, they’ll do anything they can to make a buck. This photo shows a broken down truck stuck in the mud. This guy’s trying to sell his corn. Thing is, even though the umbrellas are protecting his harvest, there’s no corn in the truck’s bed. But it sure is a good view. Nice try, too.

I work in an office with fluorescent lighting, sitting in a cubicle with beige/brown insulated-fabric dividers. I sit dressed in front of a computer. I write reports. I investigate and analyze data. Sometimes I meet with others. Other times, I’m writing. Writing is a solitary endeavor. Not for a minute do I feel that I’m not at work. I sit very close to others who cough, sneeze, and clear their throats. It’s a good day when I can finish lunch at my desk and not spill anything on my blouse. Today was one of those days.

I have a bus going out to Annapolis, so I’m mindful of the time. I have to catch the 5:06. Once on the bus, I squeeze next to someone who looks familiar, so I say hello. I’m considerate, having learned this well from my days in Catholic school, I hardly move or shift position for nearly ninety minutes. My traveling companion flips on the over head light and adjusts the air vents. I look out the window and try to remember home.

I think of my dogs waiting for me, and other ordinary things: clothes have to be washed. I could have the leftovers from Sunday. I gotta’ get new wipers. I owe Rick a phone call (I forgot to call him back last night). Oh, right, Debbi’s birthday is Friday. Finish the book in time for October’s book club night.

The bus arrives at the park and ride. I say excuse me to get into the aisle. I get to my car. It feels so good to breathe and have the room to stretch my legs. I open the windows and the sunroof. I love that my car starts right away. The drive east of 50 is fast tonight, still, I have to stop at Green Valley for one or two items. Here comes “Low-cut Connie,” that’s a song playing overhead by Rio. I pick up the mail and open the door; and because I have a large voice, I yell “Hello!” I take the dogs down to the bay, take them off collar and let them play. Tomorrow I ride at dawn.

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