My last few posts have been of a “deeper” nature, so I decided to switch things up today and talk about something light—AND SPEEDY.
Some writers are blessed with the ability to write full time. I’m not one of them. I have a day job I have to slave through each Monday through Friday before I can come home to my lovely family and words. (I buy lottery tickets on a regular basis in hopes that I can rectify said financial obstacle.)
There is one good thing about my eight to five shtick. An aspect of full-time employment I never thought I would appreciate: The commute.
My daily drive is about twenty-five minutes one way assuming the weather is reasonable and no cars are doing the metal/fiberglass tango. With the riverside route I take, it’s usually a pretty pleasurable trip, giving my mind time to release whatever details are weighting me down to engage in open-ended imagination.
Not every day is peaceful though.
Some mornings, my easy drive resembles the Indy 500 or a scene from The Fast and the Furious.
On the way to work? Really?
Headed home I get. But headed INTO the office?
Thoughts I’ve come up with to explain this behavior:
- The driver’s boss is an ass. They must beat said jerk into the office each morning.
- The driver is late. In fact, I’d guess they’re always late. Even if bossman adjusted starting time by fifteen minutes, they’d still be late. (Since the arrival of my children, I understand these people better. I don’t judge.)
- A co-worker has promised to provide donuts and sausage rolls for an early morning meeting and the driver is terrified they’ll arrive too late to score.
- They freaking LOVE their job and can’t wait to get there!!!!
Any other ideas you care to share? What are the thoughts in your mind another car screams past you? Or are you the screamer?
I know what George thinks.