After MONTHS of interviews and waiting, I finally got a well-paying job at a popular resort here. I also had THREE freelance stories this month, so I’ll get a big fat check in a week or two. Woohoo!
That also means I get to move out of my dump of an apartment into something nicer.
Yay, me!
Bonus happy story: On my bus ride home from work on Friday, the bus was just packed with tired, smelly workers (no, that’s not the bonus). At least 25 people were standing, because all the seats were full. Most are exhausted from the long day at work and just sit or stand with their heads down, their eyes closed, or in a trance-like state. It’s pretty typical. There were so many people on the bus that you could barely see out the window across the aisle.
Sitting two seats over from me was a man with a ukulele, sitting quietly, minding his own business.
I leaned over the person next to me and said, “Why don’t you play us something?” A woman who was sitting with her head down, eyes glazed, looked up with inquiry. Ukulele man said, “OK, if the bus driver doesn’t mind.”
We played operator to determine if it was ok, and a few minutes later the answer came back: “It doesn’t matter to me, as long as no one complains,” the driver said.
Ukulele man not only played but he sang, too. People who typically look dead on the bus came to life, some tapping their toes, some smiling. When he finished, everyone applauded.
It was a wonderful moment, and you just don’t get many of those on public buses. 
What’s been the trouble this week, Khadaji? Perhaps we can help …
