Fail: Now It's Not A Party

[railenthe]

I write this on a bus, firmly ensconced in a traffic jam.

 

A particularly lethal combination of construction and fender-renders—thank the gods none fatal— have conspired to lock about a dozen of us into immobility.  I finished work long ago.

 

I'm out here still because, in a feat of initiative, I asked for and got a front desk position interview right as I asked for the odds of being considered.

 

However, this traffic makes it look more and more like I will not make the awards party at my building.  They leave at 4:10, and I would have had to have been on the train... twenty minutes ago to make it.  We're not even close right now.

 

While I'm glad the road's finally being fixed—it got bad—the timing leaves a bit to be desired.

 

Looks like I'm cooking tonight after all.  I wonder if I have something besides chicken.

 

Hell, I wonder if I'll get home before my trail mix runs out.  Hoo boy.

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