the alarm clock goes off. we both groan and murmur.
i stretch out a desperate hand into the cold darkness and aim it drowsily for the sound. i flail it about wildly, the sound stops. i collapse back into the covers. he rolls over, draws the covers over his head tighter, pulling them away from me. i cringe as my skin is exposed to the cold dark air. i slip my legs over the edge and toe the floor.
8:15 can seems so cruel.
shortly outside of boston early yesterday morning our bus got a flat tire. we were at the riverside station on the green line, it was early and few people were awake enough to be concerned. the driver had a faint irish accent. it was reassuring. i drew ni closer to me and fell asleep. 2 hours later we were thrown off the bus and made to wait out in the rain for the replacement bus. we had no american money left, and despite parity the us customer service industry still had a terrible disgust of Canadian dollars. there are signs up at the snack stands, NO CANADIAN MONEY with helpful triple underlines and a nice purple ten taped up there too. i try asking politely, but to no avail. they looked at me like i've just insulted them.
here in soviet canukistan, i have never heard of anyone having a serious problem taking american money. smaller shops won't, but in general USD is recognized as currency. most places usually won't take 100$ bills, anyway, large stores often have a USD$ option in their sales systems, and happily calculate the exchange and how much CAD to give as change. bus stations and rest stops have the exchange rate posted. when working retail, on the rare occasions i would be offered USD, i would apologize and regret to inform the american that i would prefer they spend CAD but if they don't have any i can only take their USD at par and give change in CAD.
it was a long way to travel, with nothing to eat but crackers and a large block of tillamook cheddar, and nothing to drink but the one bottle i had filled with water before we left ana and toxic fur's the night before. we were thirsty.
we didn't actually end up in syracuse for very long by the time the bus connections were ironed out. didn't get back to toronto until 12, and didn't get home until 1.
this morning was a painful. shortly after i had dragged myself out of bed, the alarm clock went off again. i hadn't shut it off properly, i had just hit snooze. ni made unhappy noises from under the blankets and curled up as far away as possible from the sound. i stumbled over and mashed the clock's buttons again. it shut off, with only minor alterations to it's time.
it was a cold wet morning, and the subway was packed. no seat for this tired kitten. my unhappy mood was made worse by the crush of damp and unhappy people. i was late for work. it was 10:05 when i got there. luckily i was working with Miss Iron today so she had already gotten the shop all ready to open. The New Girl, who is unfortunately useless, will stand and stare blankly into the dark shop and sometimes even leaves and gets coffee if she happens to arrive before me. Miss Iron is a capable shop girl, pleasant and understanding, and gladly took up the slack for me as i slowly regained consciousness.
as soon as i began chatting with Miss Iron, the unhappiness fled, as i had the chance to recall and share the tales of my delightful weekend in boston.
those tales i will shortly share with you, dear hussies.