Alarms…

When you’ve been a single parent as long as I have…nearly two decades… you learn how to streamline things. Like the morning routine. You’re fairly adept getting many things done in a hustled amount of time…

And then your alarm tests this, fairly experienced, notion.

Bargaining with the alarm clock… something we all do, becomes a handy tool, that gives us the illusion of more time.

Until you’ve ‘accidentally’ hit the last snooze…

With the skills of an ancient mathematician, we are suddenly able to determine much time we will need to brush our teeth, look undead… and hightail it the seven blocks to the Express Bus.

The realization that 32 minutes is the magic number, and the car has the same amount of gas in it that it did yesterday…just makes the morning that much better.

Because you have to start somewhere…might as well be here.

It occurred to me, the other day…as a new every-day-bus-commuter, that there is much to see and experience.

From the energy of the early morning air; to the desperate need to stand up BEFORE the bus awkwardly gallops to its next stop. Holding on with both hands so as not to passionately kiss the sandal and dress shoe laden bus floor.