Ah, the joys of working downtown. In the urban environment…running into people I know…letting the train operator drive instead of shaking my fist at other cars…
But it also means that I’m leaving and returning home at slightly different times than before while I figure out what my new commute is going to look like.
{Side note – it appears that it’s only about 15-20 minutes longer each way than my previous commute. Not bad.}
Anyway, because I’m not home when I used to be home, it totally explains why I now receive messages like this from The Boy:
I wish you were here to
tell me if I look stupid or not.
Nice to know I’m needed!
He could just send you a picture on your spiffy new phone.
Or, you could just put his clothes out for him before you leave.
That suspiciously sounds like he needs me.