a day in the life of

Since I moved to this new city that is somewhere in the prefecture that is called Hyogo (and I would totally be more specific if I remembered the actual name of the city), I now have an hour commute to the theater.

And this commute is riddled with tickets--a pink one and a blue one, to be precise, that I cannot lose because without them I can neither enter nor leave the subway station. I was handed exactly 10 pink tickets and 10 blue tickets upon checking into my hotel on Monday and must make sure to have them on hand for our daily commute.

As if that weren't enough, I also have to change trains twice and pray that I get the express train rather than the local, though to be honest I don't think I would recognize one over the other before I was on it and was either stopping at every hole in the wall I passed or was seeing Hyogo in a blur as I zipped by.

Now imagine me.

Directionally challenged.

Not good at keeping small papers.

Or larger papers, for that matter, like marriage licenses.

Don't speak Japanese, so good luck at retaining the names of the stations at which I need to get off.

Or pronouncing them.

And 5'8, too.

Since you're imagining me, I thought it might be easier if you knew my height too.

I know, I think of everything and you're welcome.

But suffice it to say, I am desperate to make sure that I accompany others to the theater. Otherwise, I am pretty sure I might just end up in Tibet.

And I'd still be in the same situation: unable to speak the language, juggling many pastel tickets, confused, and of course, 5'8.

So think of me fondly as you wake up and, with contentment, realize that you know just exactly how to get to where you are going today.

Must be nice.