I have had a hellish commute all week long. Dead-stop traffic, slow moving trains, subway delays: my two and a half hour morning trip stretched to three plus hours. And the trip home, while not as bad, wasn’t that great either.
The other night, I left work hoping to get the early train home. I got down to the number one train only to find the subway platform packed with people. Never a good sign. By the time I got to Grand Central, I had missed the 5:29 by one minute. One minute! Grrrrrrrrrr. The next train gets me home close to 8:00. When I pulled up to the garage, the door was blocked by 10 large cardboard boxes piled four foot high. We had ordered new teak chairs (some assembly required) for the patio and the FedEx driver had kindly placed them where I couldn’t miss seeing them. I was too tired and did not have the patience or desire to find a way to get them and my car into the garage, so I just moved them, with some difficulty, up against the stone wall. I figured I would shoot for the early train again the next night and I could take care of it then.
Yes, well, you would think by now I would have some experience with Murphy’s Law. In the morning when I let the dogs out, I noticed a gentle Spring rain had begun to fall. Rain and cardboard – not a good mix. I threw a jacket on over my jammies and went to move the car out of the garage so I could put the boxes, all 10 bulky, hard to maneuver, cardboard boxes, into the dry garage. In the 30 seconds it took for me to grab a jacket and open the overhead door, a soft mist had become The Deluge. I hate the feel of wet cardboard.
Fifteen minutes later, drenched, pissed off and way behind schedule, I had everything stowed away and headed up to take my shower. Of course, getting out fifteen minutes off my time table meant that the traffic was fifteen minutes worse and the train I caught was the $%&*3@8 local.
So I was pleasantly surprised this morning when I got on the road and there was absolutely no traffic. As an additional treat, I had avoided the highway that connects with the Interstate (and always backs up) by taking local roads, and all the traffic lights were green. The whole way. A commuters wet dream. I made the trip to the train station in the exact amount of time the GPS says it should take. And the whole time, all my favorite songs played on the radio. A well deserved reward, I thought, after the nightmarish travel week I had had. Silly girl.
Friday is garbage day. On Thursday night, I walk the trash can down to the bottom of the driveway so I don’t have to do it in the morning. Then, in the morning, I drop the last bag of garbage in on my way to work. As I pulled into the parking lot at the train station, happy and singing along with the radio, a picture popped into my head. It was not the picture of me dropping a bag, a particularly wet, smelly bag of garbage into the trash can at the end of the driveway. No, it was a picture of that same bag lurking in the dark, distant way-back of my SUV. My SUV that will sit parked uncovered for 12 hours in the station parking lot.
Today is going to be a beautiful, hot sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky. Temperatures in the 80’s. I don’t even want to think about it.