THREE HOURS. To go just under 100 miles.
I was hovering in this void between infuriation and defeat for the rest of the day, and was both overcaffienated and over-air-conditioned…which all-in-all, led to me spending my day huddled in the corner shivering, whimpering, and probably looking a bit like a rabid raccoon. I couldn’t even bring myself to blog about it – even my coping mechanism of cynicism failed me.
Accidents, Car-B-Qs, and the inability of our transportation-planning forefathers to anticipate urban sprawl, overpopulation, and rice-burner proliferation are all beyond my control. And overall, I consider myself a patient person when it comes to dealing with situations that are beyond my control. I turn up the radio, munch on my bagel, phone-a-friend, and resign myself to the fact that I’m probably going to get the worst parking space at work.
But three hours?!
If this keeps up, I’m going to have to consider following suit with that crazy stalker astronaut lady who wore adult diapers on her cross-country marathon drive. Holding 24 ounces worth of coffee pee for three hours is uncomfortable! No one should have to stop at a rest stop along their way to work “just in case.” No one should even be passing rest stops along their way to work. And certainly, no one should have to endure three hours in a car just to sit for another 8 or so hours in front of a computer just to sit for another two hours in a car just to lie down and go to sleep just to wake up and do it all over again the next day.
I’m on the edge, my friends, on the edge.
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