On a trip to the city, what do you do?
With .the working class hero out the door before my wakeup call, I decided to make a solo run to the city. The usual reasons…
Here’s what a trip of that import offers, as a schedule. Travel along the north side, because the speed limits are more liberal (like the politics, or so I’ve heard). Rejoin the stream at the Bay, and then play polite for a surprise police barricade. Have to wonder why they required five cars and tasers at the hip, if all the work order required was to check and see if I had a license. Not actually SEE the license… does give the officer a chance to check what’s behind tinted windows, I guess.
In the city, I started by following my printed map to find the offices of the garbage people. They had requested payment of my dues, politely, so I decided to make do the due, politely. No big deal, and I may never have to visit them again, as this is usually paid with the land taxes. From there, a quick stop at Wally’s, to get an oversize laundry bin, and then a quick nip into that oh-so-interesting hardware store, to purchase some spade-tip bits. I didn’t know that was the correct term, but the people in orange aprons are helpful.
Had to pick up some plastic slipcovers (for documents) in lieu of staples, and then down to the big book store to seek a particular title. Which they had in stock, but at a price point a full 25% higher than their own online outlet. No sale, thank you. From there, a quick stop at an ATM to deposit some cheques, and a refuel (personal) at Wendy’s place. Trip to town, complete.
I took the other way home, through that brand new roundabout, and stopped at the local garage to schedule installation of the snow shoes (not mine; the car’s). Home again, before the dog even knew I was gone.
