Atypical Day is actually A Typical Day

I’m not sure how crazy everyone else’s daily mornings/weekday commutes play out, but mine are full of variety: always changing and ever-entertaining. This was one fun morning on a Spring-ish day this month:

All in before a day’s work:

♠ Run upon rising. “Lace-up and do it” is my mantra half-asleep.

♠ Visit pantyman, a.k.a. the guy who does my laundry. I have a complex about him washing my delicate things. Although he’s very polite, I always feel like we’re having an awkward conversation.

♠ Wait for the bus on the block; chat with a girl who, as it turns out, lives in my building. I barely ever see/hear anyone in my building. Do people really live there, or just dwell one or two nights a week?

♠ The man who decides to sit next to me on said bus starts talking to me while I’m iPodded and reading the Bible. “Is that really true about men?” he leans over and asks. “Yes,” I say. Cosmo is Omniscient.

♠ Arrive in city promptly. Check out a lot of window displays. What should I purchase next? I need some more brights to counteract all of this city’s black. People need to tropicalize their wardrobes here, especially now. Where is the color?!

♠ Man I pass by: “Gorgeous. Now I know there is a God. Bless you.” Thanks?

♠ Get accosted by a man and woman in the street who want breakfast. The man is rambling on about how they are hungry and she is pregnant. Please keep it brief; this is New York. They want me to walk into the deli with them and buy the food so I know my money is not for drugs or liquor. I’m starting to run late. I don’t give an F if they spend it on whatever they want. We all need to survive; street-smart ones figure out how to acquire. I give them the cash I have and save a few dollars so I can buy myself breakfast at my preferred spot. (No time for two stops after that speech! Running late.)

♠ I run to the toast man and place my order. I get lost in the conversation of this other patron who knew someone else there. “Where have you been?” “Didn’t you know? I just got out of jail.” The conversation had been in Spanish up until this point. Way to solicit your skeletons in the closet, buddy. Then, “Beautiful, (snap, snap). Helloooo, pay attention. Your toast is ready.” “Sorry! Thank you! Bye!” Don’t walk, run. (I think the patron who’d been in jail had been locked up for battering his wife. I’ve recently developed this permanent fear of men after watching a Lifetime movie based on a true story, so much so that I have had to sleep with the lights on some nights.)

♠ Jet out of there and into my office in a jiffy.

This is going to be SUCH a great day. Cannot help but love my morning adventures!

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