|My bus was much more crowded than this one.|
Then I walked to the subway station.
The Sahara Desert during a heat wave is cool in comparison to the bowels of San Francisco's subway stations. And this on a day of average temperatures. Upon entering the station ones olfactory sense is immediately assaulted by the smell of human urine. Commuters look as if they have just completed the Bataan Death March. My train was delayed. Then the train ahead of it sat in the station. And sat. And sat. Curses abounded. The weak fell. To many, life seemed to have lost all meaning. Despair was palpable. Finally my train arrived. Given how my commute had thus far gone I was fully expecting the trans bay tunnel to be consumed by a fire ball. It would't have been as hot as the bus or the subway station.
I arrived in downtown Berkeley and was again familiarized with the odor of human piss. I also saw the human detritus of the city who foul the city streets with horrific smells, obscene sounds and unsightly appearances. The litter and filth that fill the streets provide a perfect accompaniment to these colorful characters. Downtown Berkeley also often boasts obscenity screaming high school students who have a willful disregard for the sensibilities of fellow citizens. Kids!
I arrived at home to discover that the DVD I'd purchased from Criterion (bless their souls) during their 50% off flash sale had not been left at my door because the USPS decided it was not a "secure area." Remarkably they have previously left me packages without requiring an armed guard to watch it until I returned home. On this occasion they decided to be total jerks. I will wait another day.
Finally my wife returned home and all suddenly seemed well in the world. She makes all the rest of the crap I deal with worth it. Maybe someday I'll mention it to her.
Never can tell.