Well, it wasn’t as crappy a day as Raincoaster had, but some things could have been better. Realizing last night that I had left my purse in The Boyo’s van was not fun. Neither was talking to my bank about canceling my credit card. Jerks. It was a secured card, and I told them to take the money and run. But before they did that, they stuck some fees on so that it was more than the money. And then they kept putting fees on the fees. I think I got that straightened out. But I still have to pay off all the crap they already stuck on there. I got a “hardship” thingy where they lowered my interest rate, and won’t put any more fees on, and hopefully won’ t call me three times a day now. But I love Caller ID. If you won’t tell me who you are, I won’t answer. If I’ve told you my story 50 times and you keep calling me, I won’t answer. Gotta love it.
One of my problems when I don’t have Epona is that I tend to stay in the house too much, and get depressed. I knew I couldn’t do that, and anyway, it’s too nice outside. I had to find something to do to get out of the house and be around people. So, I was going to go to a Meet-Up this evening, and called The Boyo when I realized I didn’t have my purse. He verified it was in his van, and then whined he was too busy to bring it to me. OK, that’s fine, the bus to the Meet-Up goes near his place, he can meet me at the bus stop for a hand-off.
So I go to King County Metro online, figure out when the bus will be at the stop near him, and let him know. Then I get dressed and ready to go.
The first obstacle is the bus stop. The one I need is 2½ blocks away. It might as well be 2½ miles. But I grab my walker, and Friday and head out about half an hour early. Friday of course, has to do her business on the way. And I realize I forgot to refill my Bags on Board. Rut-Row. Fortunately, in the detritus in Silverstar’s walker basket, along with a copy of Wired magazine, my dryer sheets, (don’t ask) and a ton of junk mail, are some plastic bags. Thank heaven.
The second obstacle is my disabled permit is in my purse, which I don’t have. So I have to give the bus driver a sob story so he will let me ride for disabled fare. Anyway, who is going to doubt that a woman with a walker and a service dog is disabled? Seattle bus drivers are great that way, unless you are dirty, or have stiffed them several times before. I just told the truth, my permit is in my purse, which I am going to get from my boyfriend.
I ride six blocks to the stop where I’m supposed to transfer to another bus. It was earlier than the one that Metro had planned for me, but The Boyo had said he would be there early, and I knew he would. So I pretty much knew I could take the earlier bus. This is a bus with a lift, rather than a ramp, and we get lifted into the bus. Where we find an old man with a walker that could be folded, but isn’t and a blind guy with the biggest German Shepard guide dog I’ve ever seen. And we have to shuffle around so that the two walkers aren’t across from each other blocking the aisle. Fortunately both dogs are well trained, and the other dog didn’t pay any attention to us once we got settled. But I always tell blind people why their dogs are moving around.
We get to the stop where we were supposed to meet, and there he is. I get my purse, and on we go to the Meet-Up. I love it when a plan comes together.
When I get to my stop, the blind guy is getting off, too, and his dog is sniffing my purse where I have Friday’s treats. What can I say, she’s a union dog and won’t work unless she’s paid. Sorry Buddy, none for you. I get off the bus at my stop, and look at the addresses. Damn, the coffee shop is at the other end of the block and it’s a loooooonnnnng block. And so we walk some more. Because we are in a new neighborhood, Friday wants to stop at every tree and lampost to read and write pee-mail. But we get there eventually.
It was a Meet-Up of Witches, Pagans and Druids, and one Catholic who was visiting. Let’s just say there was some lively discussion. But I had a good time.
When it’s time to leave, fortunately the bus stop going the other direction is closer to the coffee shop. And when I get to it and look across the street, I find that if I’d ridden one more stop I could have gotten off closer to the coffee shop. Oh, well.
This time we don’t have to transfer buses, but it’s another 2½ blocks home. My knees are bitching, but my doctor will be happy. Tomorrow will be busy, too, as I have to institute EMOP, the emergency muck-out procedure on Casa Silverstar. Really, just because I’ve run out of clean dishes, I can’t remember what color the floor is supposed to be and I’m walking through 2 inches of dog fluff, that’s no reason to panic.