This is a gray Monday morning and after such a run of work and home tasks it is almost a relief. Waking up could have been harder except for the dog’s untoward noises that caused me to leap out of bed and headlong into the day. I’ve written about him rolling in things untoward out in the meadow; suffice to say here since we’ve had untoward accidents from both animals in multiple venues in the house, we are all in Extra Alert Mode. I think they are sensing our stress.
But I digress. After the pre-commute duties at the house, my young daughter driver and I headed for the usual pre-train coffee stop. It was a leisurely walk in, not a long line, a bit slow on the brew making, but all was in good order. Each day when we emerge from the shop’s back door we scan the tracks for the train. If we’re early, or too late, there is nothing to see. If we’re right on the timeline, the sliver and purple bullet is visible. If it’s stationary an instantaneous decision is required: either sprint with full cup in hand, or prepare to wait half an hour.
Today we saw the train, but I was content to accept the wait. As I began to saunter through the parking lot a car suddenly appeared, blew its horn while careening through the turn and actually sped towards the hole in the fence the passengers use. This guy was going for it and his wife was barreling us down to help him do it. When he jumped out and began to run, another horn blared from-what?? ANOTHER car with someone trying to make this train? I don’t know—I didn’t look back.
Instead, although it sounds mean, I hustled through the fence gap to watch the train doors get shut in his face. These trains don’t wait, and besides, he and his wife had nearly mown down three people. When I saw the conductor standing alone, no passengers, I figured the runner’s goose was cooked. But no! Not only did he make the train, the conductor motioned me forward : there I was again with the sprint!
All this to say: there are times I do not understand the small infrastructure of our daily lives. The big strokes, the outline, our purpose for being here, these I can apprehend (on good days.) But the daily invisible: HOW husband remembers to take out the trash, HOW I can find an “ethernet cable” in the tangle of wires in my attic for the ONE HOUR, two phone calls and magic that said daughter and Internet man made happen to restore the Internet to hungry devices in panic mode: 1 PC laptop, 1 Mac desktop, 2 Mac laptops and one Iphone—all strangled. That was yesterday. Now the snow boots I’m wearing fit because I could find nothing else fit right in with the stilletos, rainboots and outdoor ballet shoes others found to wear. I sit on the last open bus seat, open for a reason as I sense the water soaking from the cushion into my backside. Never fear; as I leave the bus a quick tie of my coat’s arms around my middle will serve to disguise. This day, the infrastructure, and I are off and running for better or worse. I hope your day goes well with you.