95 W Medford via Mystic Ave

Besides being embarrassingly awkward, I'm also an idiot.  I decided that I should try a new route to Sullivan Square Station (a three minute walk from my building) via bus and impulsively boarded the first one I saw.  After a few stops, I realized that we were going in the opposite direction of my destination.  Since I did not want to look stupid, I thought the best idea would be to wait out the bus ride and see if the final station stop intersected with a commuter rail.  Forty-five minutes later, I realized this probably was not the best idea.  

I was the only one left on the bus and hesitantly inched up to a seat nearer the driver.  I then admitted my ignorance and my new friend Michael turned the bus around (he was off duty after the final stop) and gave me a tour around town before dropping me off at Sullivan Square.  So now if anyone wants to trek out on the Orange Line to Somerville, I know some places to go.

There's something about being alone really late at night that I really enjoy.  I put off going to bed on the weekends just to be able to have that time to multi-task, while marveling over the handsome cooking wonder that is Curtis Stone from Take Home Chef.   The only flaw I've found in this strategy is that I can't physically sleep beyond eleven, so I rarely get my required amount of sleep hours.  Oh well, there are worse things.

Once upon a time I exploited Nick for his Boston Symphony connections and previewed a trombone concerto written by Dave Brubek's son, Chris.  Chris was a pretty chill, burly dude who seemed to dig that I was a female trombone player.  The concerto was great, as is the music put out by Chris' dad.  Here's one of my favorites:

Dave Brubek- Take Five