When I am like this, brain dead from too much taxi and too little sleep, life becomes blurry and and very little do I remember. It is an interesting state of mind where I keep forgetting where I have put anything and everything and the smallest endeavor becomes an Easter egg hunt minus the pleasant surprises. The past weekend might have never happened though I had an amazing 90 fares. What is there to remember, to reprise? Lillian the nine year old Boston terrier in West Seattle was my last passenger. Very polite and never said a word, I mean, bark. I took a canary to the specialist vet at 40th & Aurora Avenue North, the 12 year old bird suffering a sore foot. I also had a very sweet dachshund who was probably smarter than his owners who had this very bad habit of repeating each other's behavior, a kind of instant imitation.
These fares drift onto my mind like the misty, foggy morning this past Sunday. Saturday was nearly 80 F. then the change that lasted into the afternoon becoming a paler version of its weekend sibling. Oh yes, now I recall the driver who wouldn't honk his car's horn when I was backing out into an alley. He would rather we collide than violate the Very Seattle Mandate against honking. Give me Athens. And I don't mean Georgia, as in the state.
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