The Last Day of September; The First Day of October

Today was a very long day, but at least I found out I don't have tuberculosis. Good news.
Yesterday was also a very long day. Shall I tell you a tale?

I shall.

Two nights ago, I went over to dear Chelsea's apartment because she had been looking for a bike on Craigslist, and had someone that would possibly give it to her that night, so she needed a ride out to the suburbs. And so I went, and we waited, but to no avail. The person who had inquired after the bike first had arrived, claiming what was rightfully Chelsea's. I mean, claiming what was rightfully the person's who asked after it first.
But!
Later that night, the bikeholder (whose email address was BooDawgMama...I'll let your imaginations wander) emailed Chelsea to tell her that she had ANOTHER bike! What good news! So she called me, and I agreed to drive her to claim her bike, and in return, she would cook me dinner (which was a very excellent dinner) and give me apple pie, since she had no cash for gas money.
I arrive at her apartment and we get in my car and input the address into Judy, my trusty GPS, who told me that our destination was one hour and three minutes away. 'Funny,' Chelsea said, 'Google Maps said it was only forty-five minutes away.' I explained that I found a way to get Judy to avoid tolls, which is probably the reason for the difference in estimated times. But, an hour didn't sound that bad, so we set off.
Oh, but wait. It was rush hour.
Oh, and also. There was construction.
Oh! Don't forget! The house was impossible to find.
Not only were there no street lights on the street in question (which had gravel driveways. I felt like I was in northern Michigan again), but the house numbers were impossible to see. We asked someone where 305 was, and they said, 'this is 351, so it should be a few houses down.'
We drove a few hundred feet in the opposite direction, and Chelsea got out to check the address. 301. We drove to the next house. 303. We drove to the next house--our destination.
309? Really? Where was 305?
'Oh look! I see it there, through the trees,' says I. Only problem is--there's no driveway. So Chelsea calls BooDawgMama, who tells her that the driveway is actually off of a different street. We follow her directions and arrive to claim Chelsea's bike--two hours after we left.

So we load the bike into the back of my minivan (now named Concordia, in honor of her place of rebirth), and I tell Judy that it's okay to take us down tolls again. It's not worth adding more than an hour to our trip to save 80 cents. So we drive out of the boonies and back into the suburbs, then onto I-90.
Just then, as we were waiting in the cash lane to pay our meager toll, a funny thing happened.
As all of the cars are negotiating the two lanes become eight, several cars seemed to be obstructed by something. They pulled away an revealed a stopped car with its hazard lights blinking. I've been stranded before (specifically, on the road trip, with Chelsea and Brenden (who we missed and talked of missing very much), and I know how wonderful it is to be rescued by someone who has exactly what you need--like jumper cables maybe, like the pair in my car.
I pulled over next to the stalled fellow and asked if he needed a jump. 'Yeah! Do you have cables?' I answered that I did, and I put on my hazards (taking as much joy in blocking another lane of traffic as I was helping this fellow) and we jumped his car. I got back into the car and looked at Chelsea. 'Hyrum didn't raise no fool,' I said.
And half an hour later, we were back at her apartment. I skyped Michelle as Chelsea made a very satisfying pasta and steak dish with bruschetta cheese (I believe). Then, we ate our dinner as we watched Matchstick Men. I had forgotten how much I like that movie. It's one of Nicholas Cage's very, very few good roles. After the movie, I left, getting back at my apartment at an almost irresponsible 12 30.

Which is foolish considering the day of work I had today. Short version: after our recruiting time at our usual school, we drove to the far far far north side (almost to the suburbs) to go door to door. But! An hour into our two and a half hour process, we had to stop. Someone called and said that we were (quote) too threatening. Hmm.
So we set off to a different school to go door to door there--only to be called halfway there and told that we were just going to take a break and then go to different schools to catch the parents as they were leaving. On our break, Matthew, Alora, Benjamin, and I went to Loyola, which has a beautiful lakeside campus and a breathtaking cathedral, where I sat for a moment and felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks. Then, we went to different schools to recruit. Unlike every other school I've been to where we talk with parents who speak English, Spanish, or every once in a while Ukrainian or Polish, at this school I was answered with English, Spanish, Hindi, French, some African languages, and some Caribbean dialects. I was astonished.
However, leaving there and going back home was no fun. That is to say, it was just very time consuming, and I was already incredibly tired and just wanted my TB test read so I could go home and rest.

But, I need to learn what real rest is. My soul is tired.