Bought round-trip, red-eye Megabus tickets to Chicago for the Sunday Sacred Heart singing. (Whoops. “Sacred HARP.”)
Started filling out a FAFSA online.
Nina’s. Hungry. Sipping water. Waiting for oatmeal. Checked the bus schedule, checked Facebook. Three comments on bells. (The next day, I got the eight o’ clocks from the cathedral while I walked by on the way from Nina’s to downtown Saint Paul.)
Went to YWCA mostly for a change of pace. Bussing. The idea of driving to Richfield is…. Yuck. Must say that the morning express of 144 to 535 is pretty slick. Home is not so slick. Afternoon choices are: stuck in traffic on the freeway; inching along Lake Street, which in winter is a one- lane rutted cowpath.
Yesterday I tried going home at lunch. But I was really out of commission for two hours. So that didn’t work, either.
This morning to the Y, something I am not doing much of lately, mostly because I am spending two to four hours a day commuting. Got my fix of locker room banter and a little cash register back and forth with June, proprietor of the coffee shop. She’s reading Armistead Maupin. I think she said she’s reading Babycakes.