Across the river a freight train rolled very slowly eastward. At times they roll westward. There’s no way to know if they’re empty or full, they’re just there, moving laboriously, and doing so far enough at a distance to seem like one of those miniature trains pictured in shop windows or under Christmas trees. They can roll onward for maybe ten minutes without having either the beginning or the end in view. Today, for the first time, the last car was seen. It wasn’t a caboose; it was just a “last car.”
Across the river barges loaded with coal sat along the riverbank, it is presumed waiting to be unloaded. And, a tug was pushing some empties upriver. The boat was so close that someone with quicker eyesight could have read the writing on the side. The two-tiers of the bridge carried it’s endless string of cars and trucks both north and south. Sometimes it looks like there’s nothing there but semi after semi. A truck from “the uniform people” pulled up and a man unloaded rugs for the building. It’s all commerce.
The above is what goes on in the outside world. In the apartment, at the moment, yours truly is awaiting the food truck still in a stew over the loss of yesterday. Some room (not enough) was made in the freezer, and the ready list was neatly written out. There might be a chance to get some of the break missed yesterday late in the afternoon. The homemaker aide agency was called yesterday, and some choice words were expressed. Whether they were heard or not remains to be seen. It’s all commerce.
The world is running faster every day.