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I was working on a freelance editing project on the railroad this morning; sitting with Elena as usual, but she was reading a novel while I edited. The train came to a stop between stations (just north of the Hall of Science, for those of you who know Flushing), and the conductor announced that there was a fire on the tracks ahead. We sat there a while, with variations on that message, including one that explained that the train couldn't proceed because there were city firefighters on the track. It took about 20 minutes to resolve, and then we were held--by announcement--an extra four minutes at Flushing to fit the schedule of the train [that should have been] behind us. So I was a bit late for work, but so were a dozen other people, and the van waited for the train, of course. If I'm going to be on a delayed train, I'll take a sunny morning, above ground, with work I'm being paid for.
(I hope and expect to finish this manuscript by the time I get into the city after work tomorrow. If so, and if I'm any more alert than I have been tonight, I can not only go to the gym, but possibly get to the piano bar.)
(I hope and expect to finish this manuscript by the time I get into the city after work tomorrow. If so, and if I'm any more alert than I have been tonight, I can not only go to the gym, but possibly get to the piano bar.)