On the way home, I took an elderly-disabled seat on the bus, so it was a seat that faced into the aisle. I was in the seat farthest to the right of three like that, so just to my right was the first seat facing forward. This meant that as I looked forward, I couldn't see the person sitting in that first front-facing seat, but basically, she was facing my right ear.
After about two minutes of riding, I heard her talking very quietly—presumably to herself as she was sitting alone.
"Oh, lord," I thought. "It's an old, homeless person."
Next, I smelled high-percentage alcohol breath.
"Yep," I thought.
She continued to mumble things on and off, and at one point sort of whisper-shouted, "Go home," at least that's what I thought she said.
I moved my eyes way to the right trying to see if I could see her out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to see if she was looking either down or out the window, so I could take a look at her. No luck.
More riding, more very quiet mumbling, then again, "Go home!"
After turning my head far enough to make it look like I was looking toward the back on the other side of the bus, I noticed that her head was down, and I checked her out.
Young. Muslim. Wearing a hijab. Doing a word search, like one of these:
I grabbed a quick dinner, and rode over to K-Mart to pick up my picture photos, which I ordered through kodakgallery.com with the option of free delivery to my "local K-Mart." E-mail that I'd received last Saturday (the 13th) said they were being delivered and if it were a weekend, they would be there on Monday. Which means, they should have been there for at least three days now.
The person behind the counter looked through the M-N-O-P box twice, and then through each of the other alphabet-based categorized boxes to no avail. This was not a quick process either. One of those people with two speeds—slow and stop.
"Nope, they're not here," she concluded.
"Okay," I said, "I'll go back and check my e-mail and make sure I read it correctly."
I picked up a box of Curad Spot Bandages to put on my three surgery holes. The long ones have been funky—too loose when put on to accommodate a bent knee, and too tight when put on to accommodate an extended knee. These were just right:
My next stop was at the food lion, where I picked up some bread and some cream cheese I needed for a dip I'm making for work tomorrow. At the last minute, I decided to bring in some "sausage biscuits" to work tomorrow, too, so I bought:
If you've never had this combo, you owe it to yourself to try it. Slice two rolls in half. Put two patties in the microwave for 30 seconds (to thaw). Separate them. Microwave for another 40 seconds. Poof. Instance killer breakfast.
I got to dancing at about 9:30, and it was an okay night. Dancers included Carl, Bill, Michael, Geromy (who came late), Steven, and Rob.
I didn't dance at all, but I really wanted to.
At home, I made up two batches of the Harry & David Onion & Pepper Relish and Cream Cheese dip—one batch for tomorrow, and the other for Friday. And I packed everything for the bus tomorrow—the rolls, the Tostito Crispy Rounds (for the dip), the aluminum pan in which I'll put out the biscuits and the roll of aluminum foil (with which to cover them while they sit on the food table).
In the morning, I'll add the dip containers and three boxes of sausage. It's going to be a clunky bus ride in.