Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and now… Thursday. Day Six without coffee.
And I’m ready to break.
I’ve been drinking coffee since I was 18 years old. Before there were trendy coffee shops, my pals and I would hang out at a neighborhood diner and drink coffee at night. We’d catch up, laugh at silly stuff, and enjoy our java the best way we knew how: Black.
Ahh, can’t you imagine the aroma?
All was fine and dandy until now. I’ve had to make this huge change in my life, due to the painful heartburn I’ve had for the last several months.
Rolaids just aren’t doing it for me any longer. I’d pop two of ’em whenever the familiar burning sensation ran from my stomach, up the esophagus and generally making my entire day miserable. Unfortunately, the antacids are no longer working.
This was me on a daily basis
Woe is Me
And, so, it goes. It was time to make the switch. The extremely difficult switch of replacing my morning coffee with black tea.
So far, I’ve been good. I did have a sip of iced coffee yesterday morning from the workplace. Surprisingly, it didn’t taste good at all. I threw it out.
Success was mine!
The positive take away is that my heartburn has finally gone away. About 99% of it, believe it or not! I can’t tell you how soothing it is – both mentally and physically – to not have that hot, burning feeling push through my chest multiple times each day. It really does feel good to have relief from the daily pain and uncomfortableness.
It’s Still a Hard Habit to Break
This morning I waited — impatiently— for the tea kettle to come to a boil. Then I still had to wait a good five minutes for the tea to brew and cool down so that I could sip it.
“This is bullsh*t!” I said to no one in particular.
Already I’m seeing the effects of “coffee sobriety” on myself. For example, my husband asked me to proofread an email for him. I impatiently answered, “I know, you asked me like 19 times already!” Honestly, he only asked me about 4 times.
Not very nice of me.
My Morning Commute Was No Better
This morning, I needed a last-minute gift for a departing co-worker. Running into Dunkin’ was the closest and quickest in order for me to grab a gift card. Was I taking a chance going into that delicious shop? Yes, I was. But I figured I’d be quick about it…
“Do you have any gift cards?” I asked the cashier.
“Huh?” was his reply.
“Gift cards!” I responded more boldly than was necessary.
“How much do you want on it?”
“Twenty dollars,” I stated.
“Okay, forty dollars,” said the other cashier.
“Twenty!” I reminded them (my eyes revealing my impatience).
Meanwhile, a lovely young lady was ordering a medium coffee for herself. She looked happy, holding her nice, warm cup of morning joe. It all looked so yummy. And delicious. And coffee-ish.
I frowned at the entire scene. Will I ever make it to this Saturday and make it a full week without my favorite beverage?
With courage and determination, I took my $20 gift card and threw it in my backpack.
With my head held high, I turned on my heel and left the building.
We all have our own methods for navigating our daily lives — this includes commuting to and from the workplace.
Be it train, bus, ferry, car or good old-fashioned walking, we must know the tricks to get us past the hurdles, the surprises, the challenges that we face almost daily.
My spouse has his troubles as he navigates the tri-state each morning on his way to work. I worry about him, as other vehicles cruise right past him and he’s already doing 70MPH. Yet, this stress is typical for most of us before we even arrive at our workplace.
A little over one year ago, I started taking a shuttle bus between Chicago’s Union station and my office building. The first six months went well, until a replacement driver was thrust into play.
He’s a mild-mannered fellow, and I don’t mean to throw him under the bus [pun intended]. Problem is, he’s a very timid driver and that’s not something you can be when driving in Chicago’s Loop — especially during rush hour.
He once turned the bus and rolled up onto the curb. Hey, this happens to the best of us. Except he didn’t come down from the curb — rather, he kept driving with his port-side wheels running along the curb for another half block. Somehow, he didn’t seem to be bothered by this episode.
He also drives very slowly and hesitates when there’s a stale green light. Rather than taking his opportunity and crossing the intersection, he slows down and eventually stops at a yellow light. Because of this habit of his, there were a few times when I caught my evening train by the skin of my teeth.
And I’m not happy when I’m frustrated.
I SEARCHED FOR ALTERNATIVES…
Fed up, I realized it was time to find alternative options. Fortunately, there are many available choices in this City.
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I TURNED TO THE CTA
I found CTA’s No. 156 LaSalle bus takes me very close to my office. Plus I’m saving at least $40 per month with the bus vs. the private shuttle. Two positives for me!
A third positive occurred when a slight bus detour went into effect due to bridge repair work. Now I can hop on/hop off the CTA bus since it stops right across the street from my building. How lucky is that! For once, I’m hoping construction work takes a very long time.
TROUBLE ENSUES
Sure. This was all going quite well with the CTA. That is, until they change their departure schedules at whim. In the morning, I’ve missed a few buses, since the departure time had been amended and the bus leaves two minutes earlier than what I expected.
My frustration builds…
One evening, I was waiting for the bus around 5:15PM. There I was, happy as a clam that I only had to cross the street to get to the bus stop. Two other commuters waited along with me, as we stomped our feet and wiggled about in order to keep ourselves from freezing in Chicago’s sub-zero temperatures that week.
Imagine our surprise when the 156 bus swooped by us, as the driver clearly took the incorrect route and sped right past us down a different street!
THIS IS WHERE STRATEGY KICKS IN
I uttered a few words which I will not repeat here. However, all was not lost. I “quickly” trudged back to my building and caught the 5:15 shuttle to Union Station.
Discussing this new route with my co-worker, she had troubles of her own. It seems the bus driver on the detour was unaware that he should stop at the temporary detour stop. Even as she jumped up and down on Clark Street and furiously waved her arms, the driver sailed right past her — not once, but twice! — on a frigid January evening.
She and I made alternative plans. We now catch the bus two blocks further down, where we know the driver should not miss us. It’s not something we look forward to in the cold weather, but what choice do we have??
THINGS ARE NEVER PERFECT
I took my 156 bus this morning, and all went well. I pulled down the “stop cord” as we approached my destination. I made my way toward the front of the bus and readied myself to alight at my stop.
Except today’s driver just kept on driving — no slowing down — no hesitation whatsoever.
“I need to get off here, please!” I called out.
He said nothing. But he did swing his bus over the corner, where I alighted for the 99th time this year and made my way to the office.
I guess I shouldn’t complain too much. At least I have options for transportation. Plus, I’m saving $$ overall. I always consider the fact that I’m utilizing my brain cells in a positive manner, as I maneuver and strategize my way through the city — morning and night. At this point in my life, keeping my cognitive skills in order is imperative to me.
So, if commuting doesn’t keep you on your toes — nothing will.
The morning traffic anchor announced this morning's commuter update:
"A truck overturned on I-65 this morning. The driver has been taken to the hospital and is listed is good condition.
However, be on the lookout for frozen chickens spilled all over the road."
Commuting is hard to do.
Whether your driving your car. Taking a train. Or merely pounding the pavement alongside hundreds of others. The daily commute takes a toll.
It’s mentally frustrating. The back-and-forth travel will challenge your motor skills as you dodge other drivers. Or literally jump out of the way as a racing bicycling whizzes past you on the city streets.
Take yesterday morning, in the midst of my 2-mile drive to the train station, I saw a suspicious scene. The main road intersects with a walking/bike path, which winds its way through wooded areas, past a local church, and finally ends at the local police station.
Typically I’ll see a couple of folks enjoying a leisurely walk together. Or a family on their weekend bike outing.
Heck, I’ve seen a few coyotes use the path. They even cross at the proper point in the road. How cute is that!
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Why, only yesterday I spotted a small Chevy coming off said walkway.It looked like an old Chevette. Does Chevy they even make those any more??
The Autopian
The driver swerved sharply as she aimed for the legitimate road (the one actually intended for driving).
I’m not sure where this poor woman accessed the road in the first place. Did she simply believe the walkway was part of the usual traffic pattern?
Or was she having a mental impairment of sorts?
There was no way to determine an answer for her predicament. I slowed down and avoided her at all costs as her vehicle drove over the solid center line toward my car. “Please don’t hit me,” I thought.
She didn’t. Whew! I continued on my way toward the train station.
All this early morning drama made me think of my husband’s commute, as he carefully navigates I-294 each morning and evening.
Tuesday night driving was like maneuvering through a huge washing machine, as the pouring rain obliterated the ever-changing lanes due to the years-long road construction.
He’s seen it all too. From vehicles rolled over after traveling too fast — or the litterbug who throws their entire bag of McDonald’s breakfast containers out the driver’s side window.
Shaking his head each day, he carries on. And carries the stress of it all throughout his entire work week.
Approximately 75 minutes later, I arrive at my office building. Right there, on Clark Street, I see a City of Chicago fire truck positioned in the middle of the street. Do I detour and go around the other side? I wonder…
Yet all the traffic keeps sailing past the emergency vehicle, so I take my chances.
To my surprise, a woman lies flat on her back in the middle of north Clark Street. Two firefighters surround her. I see that both her feet are wrapped in white bandages, from her toes to above her ankles.
The forceful alarm of an ambulance approaches the intersection. I murmur a small prayer for the unfortunate commuter, realizing full well that her day started out as ordinary and simply as mine had.
Yet, hers already ended in an ill-fated misfortune. I’m glad to report she appeared responsive and was conversing with the EMTs. Such was her unhappy day.
Alamy
I continued my walk into the building. just like any other morning. Where I have to wake up early and try not to think about the commute that faces me four days a week. Where unlucky surprises seem to creep in every day.
So I’m here to warn everyone: Stay safe. Keep moving.
And please keep an eye out for any frozen chickens in the road.
Today, I figured, what better time than the present to add another post?
Like many, I’ve been commuting to and from downtown Chicago for work for decades. In fact, it’s been over 40 years for me.
Yikes!
As commuters, we face vehicle traffic, train delays, school zones (darn those 20MPH speed limits!), pedestrians, spilled coffee, rain… sleet… and snow.
Yes, especially in April, Chicago seems to get its snow. Just enough to make things sloppy. And a bit slippery.
This morning’s commute doesn’t have anything unique about it. In fact, as I told my co-worker, it was rather a typical commute, as I started my day by pressing the SNOOZE button once too many times. I overslept by a good 20 minutes; but not to worry, I know how to make it work in the morning.
That doesn’t mean I relish the weekday (a/k/a workday) mornings. The coffee button is the second thing I hit after the SNOOZE button.
Hot and black is the way I like it.
While the java brews, I take a look in the bathroom mirror. Things have certainly changed in the last 40 years.
I slather on the SPF lotion, curl the lashes and check my eyebrows. Nothing too fancy for work. Besides, most of it will disappear from my face as the weather kicks in and I get a free facial from the spitting rain, car fumes, and the like.
Later, I throw my brown bag lunch into my backpack: turkey burger from last Saturday (it’s still good, right?), mandarin oranges, blackberries and rice pudding for an afternoon treat.
TIME TO HEAD OUT
As I step into the cold garage and raise the door, I can finally see the full extent of the morning weather. Not too cold, but wet from overnight rain mixed with snow.
It’s garbage day and the crew already swung by at 5:55AM for its pick up. The garbage and recycling cans are on their sides in the driveway. Usually, my husband takes care of this chore, except today he’s home with a slight fever. No worries. There’s still plenty of time for me to drag them all into the garage before I head to the Metra train station.
The rote day begins as I drive to the station and park in my favorite slot. Alighting from my vehicle, I grab my backpack (heavy with laptop and lunch), along with my trusty cane (still recovering from knee replacement). My hand digs into the right pocket, ensuring my folded dollar bill and quarter are there to pay for the daily parking space. It’s all good and ready.
By this time, I’m feeling pretty good, since I recently discovered an “express” train to Chicago’s Union station. Taking this train grants me an extra 25 minutes at home to slurp my coffee, watching WGN Channel 9 news and generally put off facing my day.
Except this so-called express train usually misses its titular mark. Our train is outranked by Amtrak trains and freight trains. Today seems to be one of those days, with two interruptions of both Amtrak and a coal train taking precedence over ours.
Bummer.
Luckily, our cheerful conductor doesn’t seem to let interruptions phase him. In fact, he presents his passengers with a joke of the day, told over the train’s PARK system:
What’s the difference between a hippo and a zippo?
ANSWER:
One’s a little heavy.
And one’s a little lighter.
ARRIVING DOWNTOWN
We pull into Union station about 10 minutes late. Which means I missed my shuttle bus to the office. I check the time to see if perhaps I can grab a Dunkin’ black coffee before the next shuttle (please, no judging on the number of cups I’ve had!).
However, at this point in time, I realize I must have left my hat on the train. Do I go back and look for it? YES! After all, it’s my favorite hat — a hand-knit beret that I picked up at a craft fair. Plus, it really belongs to my daughter, so that clinches the decision.
The conductors are shutting down the train by this time, but they graciously allow me back onto the car so I can retrieve my hat.
There it is, on the floor underneath my seat. I use my trust cane to grab it and I immediately put it on my head and continue on my way. A girl’s gotta get to work!
By now, I’m doing a run-walk with my cane. Quickly, I check out Dunkin’ Donuts at the train station, except the line is super long, and it’s now going on 8:45 AM. Time to get a move on. I ditch the idea of waiting for the next shuttle at 9AM. Instead, I hop on the CTA 156 LaSalle, which will bring me within one block of my office.
“Good Morning,” I say to the bus driver. She doesn’t respond. Yes, she’s that one that doesn’t speak to passengers. Quite out of the norm, since most drivers are usually cheerful.
I take my seat near the front (mind you, the trusty cane comes in handy) and dump my heavy backpack on the empty seat beside me. Next stop, a gentleman boards the bus and sits directly across from me. I avoid all eye contact with him and the other commuters. This is an unwritten rule in the city. Especially on public transportation.
The same gentleman de-boards after two blocks. And I have to say I’m glad. Since it had been days since he showered. Oh dear. I pull my scarf around my face and take shallow breaths.
NEARLY THERE
My stop comes up in the next few minutes, and I alight from the bus. Ms. Unhappy Bus Driver does not lower the step for me. I do my best “jump” onto the sidewalk and catch myself with trusty cane. What fun.
One block to go to get to my building. Except I slip on the wet sidewalk while waiting for a red light. I didn’t fall, so all is well.
Finally I’m in the elevator. The news display reads the time as 9:08AM. Only 8 minutes late. Not bad.
I almost collide with a fellow employee as I exit the elevator.
“Good Morning,” he bellows.
“Oh, hi to you too,” I say.
I walk the last 50 steps to my desk. Stash trusty cane against the desk and drop my backpack on the floor.
“I’m here!” I tell no one in particular.
No one looks. They are all buried in their own busy schedules. Reading e-mails. On Teams meetings. Drinking Dunkin’ coffee.
And that, dear friends, is what I’ve been doing the last 40 plus years.
Several years back I sat on a CTA bus. Across the aisle from me were two women — two I saw most days of the week as we commuted to our office jobs.
She Was In A Tizzy
Woman No. 1 was angry that day.
“I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts this morning,” she started.
“Mmm hmm,” Woman No. 2 nodded, encouraging her to continue.
“I ordered a sesame bagel for my breakfast,” Woman No. 1 went on. “Except when I went to the counter to look for it, they told me they’d mistakenly given away my bagel to another customer.
“And that’s when I wanted to kill someone!” she sputtered. She was clearly infuriated.
Woman No. 2 just nodded in agreement. .
I, meanwhile, wondered what could have brought on such a heated and bitter reaction. Not only that, but I wondered how Woman No. 2 seemed to immediately agree with Woman No. 1’s outrage.
A bit frightened at this unfolding, I shook my head and looked the other way.
To this day, I still think back to that funny episode, which I now refer to as the Sesame Bagel LadyIncident. I promised myself to never get to that point. Clearly, she was having a bad morning. Nowadays I can relate since menopause can cause unpredictable emotions. One minute you’re doin’ just fine and the next… well, one innocuous remark will set you off.
Silly stories like those can lighten my mood and morning commute. Yep, the Sesame Bagel Lady still makes me chuckle. When I find myself becoming irritable over innocuous events, I remind myself not to become the Sesame Bagel Lady.
Except these days I feel bad for laughing since there’s so much disturbing turmoil and death happening.
Today’s news spoke of a local incident, wherein an irate landlord accused his Muslim tenants for the controversy in Israel these past few weeks. The landlord stabbed the female tenant and her six-year-old son.
The mother is expected to survive.
Her son has died.
Let That Sink In For A Moment
This is the point of the story where many stop reading and try to catch their breath. Try to take it all in. Try to make sense of it all.
Except there isn’t any sensibility to be had.
This was done at the hands of someone who couldn’t control his anger.
His fear.
His irrational hatred.
This news is disturbing. In fact, there’s no adjective that could fully describe these horrific times. I stopped reading the news articles. I didn’t want to read any longer. Nor listen to a podcast. And surfing Pinterest was out.
Everything else seemed so silly and pointless. Because I wanted to focus on at least one of the many victims from this month. And today it was that little boy. He deserved that much. He deserved my tears and silence, while I sat on the train and stared out the window.
I watched the drab scene from my commute through the city. Train tracks. Box cars. Graffiti. A bit of morning sun defrosting the early morning chill.
The Morning Commute Must Go On
I opened my Dunkin app and ordered the usual: Medium iced coffee. Black.
Decided to add a sesame seed bagel. Untoasted. Cream cheese on the side.
Arriving at the Dunkin shop, I immediately noticed my iced coffee was made with cream. Lots of it.
I was agitated. “I ordered a black iced coffee, please,” I urged the cashier.
She took it back and made me a fresh one — no cream this time.
I finally arrived at my desk. Reaching into the Dunkin bag, I pulled out the sesame bagel. It was toasted dark and smothered with cream cheese, which by now turned warm and gooey, melting all over. Exactly not how I ordered it.
Frustrated, I tossed it in trash.
But in this crazy upset world, I was willing to let go of today’s sesame bagel hassle. Instead, I turned back to my keyboard and started my work.
PIZZA FOR BREAKFAST 