I left the house at 5:57am this morning. I still am trying to figure out the best way to commute from to the Embarcadero BART station in downtown SF. I have to navigate the timing of everything, because everybody else in the area is commuting at the same time. The parking lot at the Dublin/Pleasanton station fills up around 7am. Woof! Traffic and parking was fine this morning, but then again it’s a Friday, and Fridays seem to be a lot lighter in terms of commute (must be be nice to be able to work from home). It’s $3 to park, and it only takes cash. I remembered when I did a trial commute yesterday that there was a change machine, so this morning I took out my $50 to make some change. I figured if I am going to need $3 to park 5 days a week (no parking fee on Saturday and Sunday), I might as well get a lot of cash in single dollar bills. But lo and behold, the machine only takes 10s and 20s. UGH. Why am I so bad at this. I rummaged through the entire contents of my backpack, trying to find a bag I had stashed away somewhere down in the depths. The contents of the bag were numerous gift cards to various places such as Target and Starbucks, all gifted to me by my mother before I left on this great big adventure. I think she was worried I wouldn’t have money to eat (and rightfully so). I had remembered putting some dollar bills in there, but I had also remembered using a few of them at a gas station in Reno Nevada for some slots (it is fondly known as Nevada’s “other” gambling and resort town). Actually, I didn’t gamble, I gave a few dollar bills to my friends to try their luck at the slots. But I diverge. So here I am, at the BART station, digging though my bag in hops I will find a few dollar bills left unscathed, just my luck, I had just enough to pay for parking for the day. Phew.
LivermoreI bordered the train, and an hour later I arrived at Holberton School…a whopping hour and a half early. Well, I did stop to get a celebratory d
oughnut across the street before arriving at school. SO here I sit, chomping on some sugar coated fried dough (this is not an irreverent tone, I have a huge respect for sugar coated fried anything), and sipping on some below par dinner coffee, awaiting the begging of the next chapter. I’m really not so sure how this story will end. So keep reading and we can find out together.