Nov 19 2014
Two Strikes
I’m watching the beautiful, light rain fall on San Francisco. The door to my modest motel room is open, since it’s not cold, just rainy, and I’m waiting for my boss/partner/friend to pick me up so we can go to lunch together and talk about our future, if any.
So far, my day has not been very productive. My plan was to go downtown and run a couple of errands, but I had forgotten how long it takes to do this by public transit. As I waited for the bus, I began to remember why I nearly always walked to work and back home when I lived here.
The bus made its way through the neighborhood I lived in when I first moved here so long ago: past the church where I twice voted for Bill Clinton with a song in my heart, through Chinatown, with its exotic fruit and vegetable stalls, and finally to the financial district, where I used to work.
I was hoping to get my eyes tested, but there were no appointments available, and I had another appointment at 1:00, so I couldn’t wait. The eye doctor I have seen back in the Big Town charges twice as much for an exam, and I have to have a new prescription before I can buy inexpensive glasses online like Erica does. My existing glasses have somewhat scratched lenses, which doesn’t help my spectacularly poor eyesight.
The appointment was with the very nice woman who bought my beautiful, two carat, century old diamond ring a few years ago. This time, I brought a pair of diamond earrings and a diamond necklace for her consideration. She was as gracious as ever, but apparently these pieces are too modern for their store, so she referred me to someone else, but I will probably not have time to get there before I head home again.
If there’s anything worse than selling your jewelry, it must be making up your mind to sell it and then having it rejected. I made my way to the bus stop in the rain, and as luck would have it, the bus was just pulling up, and my transfer was still good, so at least one thing went my way today.
A YEAR AGO:
A late season BBQ.