Morning Commute. Entry One:

Couldn't sleep last night even after three glasses of wine. Restless and grumpy from work holiday party which I left early feeling lost and unsociable. Woke up late; stared at the computer too long; had Tricia drive me to the North Western stop.Pass expired, had to dig for change. First, ran out to try and catch Tricia - don't exactly know why, would have stayed home I guess. Waved frantically as she drove by yawning. She didn't see me. Arrived at Rosemont several minutes early. Train uneventful, not many passengers since I skipped the downtown stops. Girl behind, very black hair against pale round face, sneezes. I whisper "bless you." Whispers back "thanks." I read Sun-Times Real Estate section someone left on seat. Mostly about new homes/developments in Chicago suburbs. Mason buys home in new development that he was already working on. Believes houses are of better design - points to external kitchen exhaust and window sills for examples. He's building his own fireplace. 300k 2-3 bath. I'm early; so it appears, is the quick moving rastafarian homemade-crown wearing doomsday sign holding man who gets on inbound. Runs, hops by me.Young French man in urban business fashion discusses sugar with black American friend who puts a lot of it in his coffee. French man suggests that Americans can no longer taste sugar, it's so ubiquitous (not his words). Also explains that cold things imbibed cause body to heat up and reverse. "Zat ees why desert people, zey are drinking hot things."
Bus is warm, quiet. Day is clear and crisp. Reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez story in Spanish with parallel English text - library book, from which this page is stolen! Book checked out often.