Bus Report #889
Walking the rest of the way home I watched the fog rolling over the neighborhood in tendril-like wisps. Oh, it felt good.
This morning, the fog hung low over the neighborhood. It was heavy and thick and made me want to crawl back underneath the duvet I'd thrown off an hour earlier.
Lights were on in many of the homes all along Arguello and later, Ashbury. With the shades open, each illuminated room in the apartments and houses looked like a dollhouse room. Painting hung here and there. Kitchens cluttered with pots and pans and coffee makers all pressed up where the window meets the wall. Stoves in silhouette. Flickering televisions with the viewers hidden from sight. Cats sitting on the backs of sofas, surveying the streets.
The bus was almost empty my entire ride and for a moment I wondered if perhaps it was Saturday and I was going to work by mistake. We rounded the hairpin turn onto Market and the connection to the electricity fell down. The bus braked, hard, and then the driver hopped out to fix the connection.
On 16th and Potrero a man crouched over a glass jar and emptied something in to it. The jar was full of... I'm not sure. Vegetables? Vinegar? Was he making sidewalk pickles? I'll never know.