I was never one to be a bus/train sleeper, but this morning I closed my eyes for a minute on the shuttle and it was good.
I wish I could buy a decent hot dog around here.
Thank the gods for my thermos. When not in use I place it upon a makeshift alter and worship it. My silver idol.
I like that word makeshift. Makeshift.
I started reading Margaret Atwood's The Year of the Flood. It is good. The language is near-poetic. Every sentence seems well thought out and purposefully constructed. I appreciate that in prose. This life needs more poetry.