MY DAY: Wednesday winding up and down

It was an interesting day, to say the least.

I decided that I should venture out on this beautiful day and stepped onto the bus at 10:40 AM to head up to North Dayton to dine at one of my favorite haunts where I also employ myself with research. About a mile from home, I realized I had not brought my wallet. Rather than stand out in the sun at most locations, I remained on the bus to catch the No. 17 southbound bus, which I did. I had fifteen minutes at home before the next northbound bus would pass by The Haasienda. With my wallet secured in my back pocket, I was finally fully northbound, arriving 40 minutes later than my initial intention.

The bus stop’s location is a messy arena of idiocy where little attention is paid by selfish drivers who wish to get ahead. Today highlighted my assessment. I waited to cross the four-way stop so some cars could just go. I looked over my left shoulder and the fool behind that wheel, both turn signals physically cracked or broken, was in the left-hand turn lane, freeing me from his path. Or, so I thought. As I began to cross the road, he gunned the engine, turned in front of the car hoping to secure the right-hand turn lane, and barrelled toward me. Fortunately, he screeched to a halt before hitting me. I was near the halfway point of my crossing and I wonder if I had not been there if he would have crashed into the car waiting at the stop as the idiot was forced to cut sharply to pull into his lane. He received only a glare, not a word, which was quite challenging.

But, all was well, and I ventured on to the restaurant.

Lunch was good, as expected and I completed a good deal of research on some of the early Twentieth Century anti-trust cases that involved several Dayton entrepreneurs and businessmen. My gut issues intensified and I took the next bus directly back to The Haasienda where I napped for 90 minutes.

I noted that the table next to me had two women and two teens, dining. The ladies chatted, but the teen girls sat with their earbuds shoved into their brains, faces down into their phones on the table, and barely attentive to their meal. How sad. There was no conversation, whatsoever, nor any tangible interaction. I remember, a bit before the iPhone era took off, seeing teens and parents reading books at their restaurant tables. I was chastised by fellow parents for not allowing my sons to have their phones at the table but that was MY call and I refused rudeness to be present while eating out or at home. Meals were balanced with eating and conversation, seasoned with heavy laughter. What I witnessed at lunch was not a product of the Covid quarantine as this has been present for nearly fifteen years. I just find it to be so empty.

Now, I am enjoying the evening on the deck. My laundry is hanging to dry, dishes are in the dishwasher, another batch of salsa is made to last the next several days, and I am listening to David McCullough’s JOHN ADAMS via Audible. I am not enjoying it as much as I thought I would. I have found it to be more interesting now that Mr. Adams has now ascended to the presidency.

Thursday, I must mow the backyard, and possibly the front yard. The backyard is pushing higher and I cannot wait any longer or it will be a challenge. I have a 1:00 PM Zoom session with Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello historians and curators and then a Mary Lincoln presentation later in the evening.

Friday, I may try to take an adventure with my camera but it will come down to how my gut is behaving and how my legs are affected by the forecast rain, Saturday morning.

The high school’s parking lot is filling up with concert-goers eager to see the Killer Queen – The Queen Tribute Band. I am hoping to hear the music from my deck. One of the great benefits of living so close to The Fraze Pavilion is being able to hear the music.

I have a lone wisteria bloom and see no signs of future blooms elsewhere.

On with the evening. It is approaching 8:00 PM and I hope to work for another two or three hours from the deck before stepping inside to my bedroom to read while listening to a documentary or chuckling to the antics of Mayberry citizens.

About Wright Flyer Guy

Darin is a single adoptive father, a teacher, playwright, and musical theatre director from Kettering, Ohio.
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