36 Views of Public Transit
Why weren't there more people at last night's performance of Walking Shadow's production of 36 Views? It's a play where most of the characters lie constantly to each other. What better Valentine's Day entertainment? Anyway, it was excellent, and there are more performances, so you should go see it.
We would've liked to stay for the post-show discussion, but when the house lights came up, leorathesane looked at my watch and said, "Our bus comes in one minute." To everyone who was Valentining in the vicinity of the Red Eye: you're welcome. I know that nothing kindles the romantic fires like 2 stout and well-bundled Midwestern dykes running pell-mell for their bus.
I'm trying to woo leorathesane to the wonders of mass transit, but it's difficult when we endure calamity every time we ride. Last night, in addition to the sprinting, we had a 15-minute wait for the bus that would take us home from the light-rail station. Which doesn't sound atrocious, except that the air temperature was -6, which made 15 minutes Too Fucking Long.
And then, one of those Valentine's Day miracles that were spoken of in Olden Tymes. The bus, scheduled to depart at 10:31, arrived at 10:24, and we sat inside, in the warm, for 6 minutes. Blissful, blissful 6 minutes.
Then we were home, and the house was not warm, because the thermostat had kicked into night mode. I slept in flannel pajamas. The sheets are flannel, too, which made movement difficult, but at least I didn't die of shivering.
Next time, I'm wearing more layers. Always more layers. There is no such thing as too many layers.