New job, new diet.

As they say, necessity is the mother of sandwiches.

Commuting, complaining.

My level of frustration with my daily commute is at Orange, and is creeping towards Red.

Navels I gaze into when I’m half-awake and riding the bus to work.

When we hunker down in our seats with a book or a newspaper, we erect a forcefield around our bodies, focusing all our attention on the sports section or the movie reviews.