Tomorrow I might be in the Connecticut Post. The reporter took my name, which I spelled matter-of-factly for him as though it were my habit to give media interviews.

“I was here at 7:50,” I told him while staring at my Twitter fees for more news on the route into the city, “and they said it was a ConEd feeder that was down, so I didn’t think it would be fixed quickly and went home.” That was all true, ‘cept I stopped at Starbucks on the way home, expecting I’d be working for Connecticut for the day.” But then I saw on News 12 that there might be bus service to the Harlem line and on Facebook via my buddy that there were going to be diesels from Stamford to GCT.

I wouldn’t have cared so much and would have been happy to work from home, except my group at work was having a special quarterly professional development meeting today and–more importantly–free apps and drinks afterward. So I made my way back for an 8:23 train that got to Fairfield late and required a transfer to a diesel at Stamford. I got to GCT around 10am, an hour and a half later than usual.

The day was fun. I’m glad I went in. But now I’m sitting on a diesel train that will make every stop to Stamford with no promise of how I’ll get to Fairfield. It’s 10pm and we just left Harlem. I’m glad it’s my regular work-from-home day tomorrow. Okay, time to eat my pretzel now.


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