It's a small, small world

Turns out I did nothing outside yesterday despite what I though were my well-laid plans. I stayed inside and tackled two surveys I volunteered to do for a small local business. That leaves me to run Friday's errands as well as today's.

Here's the route. Down Barrington for groceries, drop them off at home, up Spring Garden to order eyeglasses, buy a book, do my banking, then down to Lower Water St. to buy some Chinese food at the Brewery Market that closes at 1 p.m.

Crazy to keep such a popular place open for only one half day a week, but there you have it. A piece of Nova Scotia. Apparently, we like our crowds.

What I am most excited about is next week's writing retreat to the Northumberland shore with two girlfriends from my writers' group. Five days and four nights in a three-bedroom cottage on the ocean. It'll be grand.

It does come with transportation challenges.

1) My daughter has two workshops in Truro on Monday that I was to borrow a car to get her to and from the event. A bus will not get her there early enough.

Solution: My dear friends have agreed to head out at the crack of dawn (Note to self: purchase large quantities of coffee and tea.) so we can drop my daughter off along our route. She will take a bus home.

2) I now have to get to Clayton Park West for 7 a.m. Easy, I think: I'll take the bus. Hold on there girl. No busses run that early. Of course they don't. So, I called the ex thinking he might offer to pick me up. (It was his car I was going to borrow initially so he would have had to come and get me for 7 a.m. anyway. What's an extra 30 minutes?) He did not make that offer but did invite me to sleep over as his place is around the corner from my rendezvous spot. It would be quite proper -- me in the bed, him on the couch. Does that seem awkward to anyone but me? I declined.

Solution: This is was cabs are for, right? Right.

My scenario does raise a point of difficulty for those of us who make our way by foot and public transportation. Getting somewhere outside of one's immediate range is either difficult or downright impossible.

One's world becomes geographically petite.

Colleen