I told Kathryn this morning that it's just going to be one of those days. The dog got into the garbage while I was in the shower. She got up late. We got caught by a train going to her school. Lines of cars backed up at her school.
We still talked about music, and softball and Einstein. I told her if she thought more like Einstein, she'd be a better hitter. She wouldn't swing late like she is now. She's got to stop thinking about the softball field, though, and more about the universe. God, when I'm dead the stories my kids are going to tell about me.
I was late for my train so had to take the 8:05 local, which of course arrived in South Station late. I'm sitting on the train and by the time the conductor said, "Next station stop: Yawkey," I thought I was going to piss in my pants I had to go so bad. Sitting next to me was a Yankee who had gotten on in Wellesley, of course: pink shirt, khakis, blue blazer, loafers, wire rim glasses set on a pointed nose, straight hair combed straight back. I wondered if he ever felt like he was going to piss in his pants, he looked so cool and collected.
No comments:
Post a Comment