Ding Dong the Strike is Dead
Thank the Baby Jesus, the Transit Strike is over. Now I can once again return to the job I hate so much, and as luck would have it, I find myself at my place of employment as I type these very words. It is indeed laden with irony, the fact that I am happy to return to the job that makes me so unhappy, but what girl wants to find herself unemployed five days before Christmas? It just doesn't feel right. During these more stressful times of the year, I find that to maintain the status quo is to maintain sanity.
For those of you wondering, I did not walk to work. The distance to my job is a daunting 17 miles, as I live in the farthest reaches of Brooklyn and my job is on the upper east side of Manhattan. Need I mention that temperatures were in the lower 20's? My other option was to make use of a car service. Unfortunately, to take a car to and from work would cost more than I make in a day, and I really did not want to sit in gridlock traffic and pay $40 to be two hours late anyway. So I consulted with my superiors and they agreed that it would be best for me to just stay home. Because Thursday is my regular day off, I only missed two days of work, and if the strike were to continue, I had made arrangements to stay with coworkers in Manhattan. Luckily for everyone involved the strike ended yesterday afternoon, as I was preparing to pack my overnight bag.
That being said, my three-day holiday was fruitful and enjoyable, even if my heart was heavy with Catholic guilt for missing work. During the strike I made Christmas cookies, fried chicken, my first cheesecake, and a pair of bloomers. I practised violin and listened to the Nutcracker. I found that my hair is finally long enough to make little pigtails and I took a romantic evening walk with theboyfriend to look at all of the beautiful lights and decorations adorning the big old houses in our neighbourhood. We even got to visit the nativity scene at the nearby girls' school.
Now all I need to make this experience complete is one of those "I SURVIVED TO THE 2005 TRANSIT STRIKE" t-shirts.
For those of you wondering, I did not walk to work. The distance to my job is a daunting 17 miles, as I live in the farthest reaches of Brooklyn and my job is on the upper east side of Manhattan. Need I mention that temperatures were in the lower 20's? My other option was to make use of a car service. Unfortunately, to take a car to and from work would cost more than I make in a day, and I really did not want to sit in gridlock traffic and pay $40 to be two hours late anyway. So I consulted with my superiors and they agreed that it would be best for me to just stay home. Because Thursday is my regular day off, I only missed two days of work, and if the strike were to continue, I had made arrangements to stay with coworkers in Manhattan. Luckily for everyone involved the strike ended yesterday afternoon, as I was preparing to pack my overnight bag.
That being said, my three-day holiday was fruitful and enjoyable, even if my heart was heavy with Catholic guilt for missing work. During the strike I made Christmas cookies, fried chicken, my first cheesecake, and a pair of bloomers. I practised violin and listened to the Nutcracker. I found that my hair is finally long enough to make little pigtails and I took a romantic evening walk with theboyfriend to look at all of the beautiful lights and decorations adorning the big old houses in our neighbourhood. We even got to visit the nativity scene at the nearby girls' school.
Now all I need to make this experience complete is one of those "I SURVIVED TO THE 2005 TRANSIT STRIKE" t-shirts.