Bizonkulous

I forgot that since James is in Edmonton and his car is chillin’ at the airport, I had to fend for myself getting home from Langley. I’d brought my bike and my laundry, then bought a bunch of yarn and 8 pounds of jeans. Can’t ride back with all that.

I found out that I can fit the entire contents of my laundry hamper into my backpack. The rest fit in two plastic bags. The bus from Langley to the skytrain was insane.

Now. I do not know if there is a Greek word for this ending in -phobia, but I am TERRIFIED of people choking to death on public transportation. I don’t get petrified when I hear people coughing elsewhere, and I am not worried about people dying otherwise on the bus, but when someone starts coughing a lot, I get freaked out. Especially if it’s an old person.

Today’s Cougher-And-Hacker was a professional. It sounded like a cough associated with impending vomit. I’m not kidding, I was SCARED STIFF. It was the worst episode to date.

There were also some asian gang members, one of whom kept squawking like a parrot. I don’t know why.

Also a very LOUD crying baby, upon whom I tried to focus since at least that was a normal thing for a baby to be doing and better than people coughing to death or busting a cap in someone’s squawking ass.

Unrelated: Last night I dreamed that my first boyfriend (Z, but in the dream his name was Robin) asked me to marry him. He took my stunned silence as acceptance, put the ring on my finger, and left. I struggled to explain this to James before waking up.