The Wrong Bus

I. In Transit

I got on the wrong bus the other day, going over to my soon-to-be new place, and ended up way off track. 
I couldn't get lost if I tried in my current neighborhood, so this was kind of fun.

The Virgin of Guadalupe blesses our progress (outside the right-hand bus window).

I was short on time, so I never did get over there. Yesterday, I biked over to get the new Orphan Red I'd had delivered there––Minnie!
Minnie Micawber, Minnie Beebe, Minnie Cooper, Just Minnie.

She is a good traveler by bike...

. . . and we stopped for a banana split at Dairy Queen, on the way home. Mostly for the idea of it, but it was surprisingly good. 
Minnie only ate a tiny bit, I had to eat most of it.

I've been pushing to move on or before September 1, but I might relax and accept that it'd work better to move a week or two later. 
I gave notice for October 1, so that's no problem. 

The place isn't ready, to begin with. 

II. I take it back, Universe, what I said about maybe wanting a sweetie.

Did I get asked out on another date yesterday?
I can't quite tell, but I think yes?

A longtime volunteer, a guy my age with whom I've often chatted and joked, said he had "an extra ticket" to go see Rod Stewart (Rod Stewart! my childhood!)--did I want to come?

The extra ticket seems to signal "this is not a date", doesn't it?
But not an entirely true signal? More like a face-saving ploy?

I was briefly tempted but answered truthfully that I'm too overwhelmed with moving--I'm not up for an evening out.

Then the guy removed any temptation, now and forever, by pressuring me:
"If you're overwhelmed, you need distraction!"

I repeated that I had too much to do, and he pushed some more, "Oh come on, it'll be fun--just what you need."

What's with it with people dictating what other people need?
Such hubris.
It's like when Big Boss told me GOD wanted me to stay on the store committee I was resigning from.

I told Mr Volunteer that piling on distractions might work for some personalities, but not mine. 
When he left the store, he did not say good-bye.
What a child.

I think of myself as safely out of the game, as an old, fat, gray-hair, but probably I am delusional.


I don't want to be less friendly at work, but I guess I'd better Be Prepared, have some script to hand for turning down offers.
Unless, of course, I'm actually interested.  
A person would have to be a better bet than a book, though---that's a high bar.