Defeat has never really been my forte, so I’m not inclined to accept it now; however, this simply cannot continue. I mean, consider what I could have done with that time had I not been sitting in my car adjusting and readjusting the tension of my seat belt on my bladder. For example:
- I could have finally witnessed the conclusion to my semi-lucid recurring dream about getting chased by dinosaurs and construction equipment through a furniture store. But now I may never know if T-Rex will crush me with his backhoe or if I will ever get that beautiful green sectional I’ve been eyeing up as I repeatedly deathsprint by…
- I could have watched three hours and fifteen minutes of Sham-Wow, Bender Ball, Slap Chop, and Proactiv infomercials and finally been able to get those sap smudges off my windshield, tighten my obliques, make egg salad in a snap, and tackle that adult acne situation. But now I may just have to accept that a good section of my windshield is as useful for seeing the road as beer goggles are for scouting models and my eggs may never be evenly chopped in milliseconds. I am truly missing out on the little things in life…
- I could have even received three hours worth of useful therapy to help me process that bottled up, commute-induced rage that is soooo ready to erupt on some unsuspecting soul. But for now I will have to douse the flames with my trusty coffee, a good chuckle at the unrelenting misery that is my commute, and the kind of patience that can only be built up through years of ignoring the clock on the dashboard, turning up my tunes and pretending that I’m headed towards better things.
Gotta keep on keepin’ on.
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