Nothing to be done. I had to walk home again.
Get there. Grab essentials. Take a look at the clock and read 9:15. I’ve stepped from the realm of “adjusted schedule” into the genuinely late. Now I’m grumpy and feeling as though the gods are angry for some reason. I’ve a meeting I need to go to, so I can’t very well throw my hands up and claim a mental health day. Back out the door. Catch the bus. Head to Davis.
The bus and train are oddly crowded considering the time, and there were far too many people exhibiting signs of feeling too self-important to move out of the doorways and into the train so that everyone could board. This, of course, only improved my mood.
I let myself zone out until I hit Park Street, got up to street and checked the big clock above the station. It read a couple of minutes before 9:00. At first I don’t believe it, but as one public clock after another boasted a pre-9 fix, I give in to the consensus reality. I suppose it was my reward for forging ahead while the powers that be tossed me around for their amusement. Alternatively, I was so groggy this morning that I managed to misread every clock I saw until I had been up for several hours.
I think I like the more mystical explanation best, but I know there are realists amongst you.
Addendum: A- just walked into my office (10:15) and reported having a weird temporal interaction this morning as well. (She apparently lost time.) It’s spreading. You have been warned.