The scenic route

I have a thing about appointments. I don't like them. That goes for the standard kinds of appointments like visits to the dentist or job interviews, and others like meetings and parties. Once I'm there I'm fine and may be glad I've come, but it's the getting there that's hard.

I don't like the hours, days, weeks of anticipating whatever it is, of being obligated to appear sometime in the future. I don't like the crappy feeling that comes when I'm late to things that have been scheduled for a long time, even if it wasn't my fault. Knowing that I have to be somewhere weighs on me. I like to be on my own time.

Once I'm free of everything though, I couldn't care less about whether my bus is on time or not. I will ride the skytrain out to the last stop, just so that I get a seat on the way back. I will navigate home by direction only, with a complete disregard for bus schedules and routes.

This is good because it just so happens that today I looked up the bus schedule to get out to the west end, but it didn't occur to me to figure out how I was getting home until I was tying to do it.

As I was waiting out at a bus stop I stepped out to look for busses and inadvertently flagged one that I didn't want to take. The bus stopped and the driver sat there with the door open and refused to move. He was a Sikh with a big turban. "Howdy! Howdy!" he said, so I just had to get on.

I took the scenic route home.

My milk's a little off, which didn't really bother me until I got down to the last sip of my tea where all the chunky bits were hiding. As I swished that last little bit around it reminded me of the contents of the toilet when I'm sick so I think I'm going to pour it out.