Due to my slight mistrust in the turns of buses I was doing some late-night walking, a healthy and thought-provoking 15 blocks are so and the elegant, and true, phrase
Beth puts me on buses
intermittently chimed in my head.
But because Beth puts me on buses that are never too close to my destinations I discovered about 12 hours ago a handful of wondrous things like a 24-hour florist where lilies chosen are wrapped with topnotch cello and tied with tri-colored ribbon, on a corner lurking is an old-school diner with tuna sandwiches under $5 and I laid eyes on a building that looked, at least in last night's light, like it had dropped in from Roma.
It is time for me to lunge off to an unnamed caffeine destination where nobody knows my name (a clue that it's not the French joint where I have been shuffled to the Regular column) and force theory about images down at the same same time.
New mantra:
Grad school is what you make it.
And here's hoping that none of you Perfect readers find that echoing in any way a tag line of an armed force.
Grad school - where you're not armed and are a force to be reckoned with.
Love.