Mondays

(please ignore the fact that I'm posting this on Tuesday, it's a day late)

Mondays. Need I say anything else? Well, that would be a very short post, so let me try anyway...

Today I managed to get up shortly after my alarm went off (at 8:10AM). That would typically get me out the door by 8:50 and at work by 9:25 (yes, I start work at 9:30AM, go on, hate me). But not today. Oh, no. Not this Monday.

I get to the streetcar stop by 9:04, just in time to see it pull away. Lovely. I check the schedule on my iPhone and it says the next one doesn’t leave for another 8 minutes. Terrible, but not disastrous at that point. I decide to pop into Starbucks for some non-fancy coffee. Of course, the second I come out, I see the streetcar pulling away. EARLY. Since when are those things early?!? I chase after it, calling out to the driver who blatantly ignores me and shuts the doors. Jerk. Now I have to take a cab or I’ll be late. I decide to start walking towards work until I find a cab, lugging my gym bag, already sweating in my suit. I finally find a cab, and of course he doesn’t accept credit cards. And then we hit traffic. I swear that next month I will not buy a MUNI pass, and will walk to work every day. Rain or shine. Heck, maybe I’ll run home and kill two birds with one stone.

On the way home, a similar nightmare. The streetcar is jam packed with tourists as usual. Tourists who refuse to move to the back, so of course we’re packed in the front like sardines, breathing on each other. Tourists who never understand that in order for the doors to open, they have to step down towards them, so they stand there and yell at the driver to "open the back door, please! back doooor!". Tourists who mistake the cord you pull down to request a stop for an armrest, so the streetcar ends up stopping at every stop with no one getting out. Loud, cheerful, colorful tourists juggling shopping bags, strollers, screaming children, and crumpled maps. Tourists who actually find these streetcars “quaint” and who ride it “just for fun.”

Don’t get me wrong. I understand that tourists are unavoidable since apparently I happen to live in “the most beautiful city in America.” I don’t know when I became so cynical. But somehow, I accidentally ended up here in "paradise" and ended up getting bitter.

Maybe it’s because I came here with my previous job, and it wasn’t exactly my choice, so I feel “stuck.” Maybe it’s because I think it’s ridiculous to pay $2,500 a month for a teeny apartment. Maybe it’s because I find it heartbreaking and disturbing that there are so many homeless people, everywhere, most of whom are clearly on drugs or mentally ill. Maybe it’s because the public transportation system is a complete disaster and these hills make it a nightmare to walk to certain places. Maybe it’s because we have no seasons, and the thermometer is permanently set at 50 degrees and I haven’t worn a dress in a year. Maybe it’s because I live two blocks away from the beach, but it’s always too cold to wear a bathing suit.

Maybe it’s time to move.

But where?

PS: Going for a run after work made me feel much better. Plus, I got to see this: