Stalled

 I’m sitting on a train, in a sleeper car, absolutely motionless in the middle of empty land. I see a freeway over there in the middle distance. At this hour of the morning, most of the traffic on it are large trucks. Other than that, it’s pretty much a straight shot to the horizon, over which the sun is about to come up. I don’t know why the train has stopped but it is very restful. It’s pleasant just to sit and look out the window. But somehow I feel like I ought to be working, or doing something otherwise productive: writing a poem, say, or a trenchant philosophical essay for the Patio. I’ve decided to compromise on this instead. 

I can’t see the sun yet, but I can now see sunlight reflecting off the trucks on the freeway over there. It won’t be long now. 

Why am I on a train in the middle of nowhere? The idea is that I’m traveling for work. I have things to do at one of our offices in the metropolitan area of Faraway City, and then at our office in Sticksville, and then at one other office I don’t remember giving a name to. And of course I live on the other side of the continent. Before COVID-19, I would have flown — possibly even making three trips of it. (Though three trips in three consecutive weeks would have been a little crazy.) But my boss wasn’t too pleased at authorizing my travel when there was the risk that I might get sick on the plane, or going through security. So I suggested that I take the train and hire a sleeper compartment. This would give me more isolation, which should help. To be sure, I’m only taking the train till I hit a rough midpoint among my destinations: then I rent a car and drive back and forth among them. In some ways it’s still a little crazy. 

But I should get a good picture of how many miles I’ve been flying over all these other trips. And I’ll have a couple days over one weekend to visit Debbie. That will be nice.