I left Genevieve’s on Sunday at 9 PM, backpack in one hand, bag with empty Pyrex dish in other, swore at Shorewood’s sparse yellow streetlights as I walked to my bike, plunked plastic bag with Pyrex into bike basket, hefted backpack onto back, turned on blinking head and tail lights, dug into upper left-hand pants pocket for my key chain, it wasn’t there. Dug into all six pockets. Not there. Felt from the outside, dug into the insides, still no keys. Looked on ground. Couldn’t really see. Must have fallen out of pocket somewhere. Returned to house, feeling foolish.
Every day’s an adventure, and every adventure is a learning experience. Maybe. Last Thursday I planned to get up at 6 AM, walk a mile with Adolph to the number ten bus for a one-hour ride to Froedert, take a one-hour bus ride back to Shorewood after his appointment, then the same one-mile walk back home.
Chance conversations as I walk my usual path make the path unusual. Chance conversations inside my home change the day!
There’s a corner house a block from ours, and every time I pass, I inspect the lawn. I want to be sure there are dandelion leaves.