I’m on a bus.

For the next 10 hours.

You know how when you’re trying to get to Regina and you think, “Hey, a bus sounds like a good way to enjoy a relaxing ride across two provinces! And it has Wi-fi! And you can use the bathroom anytime you want, even if it’s windy! And it’s $300 cheaper than a plane!” At that moment, in the comfort of your local Starbucks, it seems like a really good idea. So you buy a ticket.

And then you get on the bus, and it’s packed full, and you’re worried that you smell funny because you’re wearing the same hoodie that you’ve been wearing with your pyjamas all last week, but it’s the only thing you have in your backpack to ward off the over-eager air conditioner above you. It’s at that moment that you might realize that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t going to be one of your smartest life choices.

And then about 1/2 an hour later, just as you’re about four paragraphs into what was going to be the best blog post of all time, you remember that reading or writing on a bus makes you feel a little nauseous, and you have to stop writing? Sure, maybe you really like writing, but you’re not about to sacrifice your health or your recently consumed lunch for the sake of your blog.

‘Cuz if you have, I know exactly how you feel.

Only 9.5 left to go.

On the bus.