Some of the romance of living without a car is wearing off.
Like lugging heavy bag of groceries to the bus and then from the bus stop to my house. Only 1/4 mile of walking probably, but my arms were tired.
Like having in those bags a half-gallon of milk and hoping it wouldn’t get spoiled in the the nearly 80-degree temperaures. (It stayed nice and cool inside my bag, so there must be some slight insulation in some way.)
Like trying to figure out how to get to the airport for an early-morning flight, before any of the public transit system can get me there. (A co-worker has generously offered to drive me.)
Like thinking I ought to buy a coffeemaker for when guests visit, but not wanting to have to carry it home from the store.
But there are some fun parts, too.
Like waiting for the bus in these really cool pastel-painted rocking chairs that the city of Takoma Park has set up at some stops. And the folks in a passing car smiling at me as I sat rocking away on that sidewalk.
Like getting into random conversations with other passengers, such as the promoter for the big Dalai Lama visit a few months ago and a psychiatrist showing off photos of his daughter doing well after she donated an organ to her best friend.
You don’t get into those kinds of conversations driving around in your own set of wheels.