Commuting is a nightmare. I have done the 2 hour commute in New York, a 45 minute commute in London, and the 25 minute commute here. And no matter how “easy” it seems, there is a part of traveling from home to work that erodes a part of your humanity. And your sanity.
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I initially thought that I would never get tired of my 25 minute commute here. It’s an easy drive of bucolic scenes: mountains, fall foliage, the occasional farm animal, etc.
Image taken from: amherstma.gov
Just the other day, my brother sniffed the air in Amherst. “This town smells like diarrhea,” he stated, unceremoniously.
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So maybe not all good. But the stench of cow poo aside, it is a really nice drive.
I have learned, however, that even “easy” commuting becomes a nightmare. There are the two lanes where you are stuck behind either an 85 year old in a large car, or a young mom in a green Subaru, with a nightmarishly large truck bearing down on you. Either way, you are losing.
Today, getting home was a struggle. I was stuck in odd, 2 pm traffic. And then caught thee *worst* case of itis on the way back home.
Like an old black man, I had really bad heartburn and was simultaneously struggling not to sleep as I drove.
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My cd full of trifling music was somewhere in my apartment, so I was stuck listening to “conscious?” hip hop, which never kept me awake in the first place, or top 40 hits, which at this point grated on my last nerve.
By the time I pulled up to the gas station, I felt like a 3 year old without a nap. If I didn’t get to my bed in 5 minutes, I was going to throw the hugest fit in the world.
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But the sucky thing about being an adult is that, if you do throw a fit, nobody cares.
I thought that when I was an adult, I would magically have everything in place. As I write this, my desk is covered with scraps of paper and unopened mail, a half-eaten box of almond granola bars, and a cup of water I am trying not to throw on my laptop. My car needs an oil change, and my clean laundry still needs to be put away.
On good days, commutes prepare me for the challenges of the day; on bad days, they remind me that I still don’t have it together.
As I carefully steered my car around a man who was riding a tricycle down Lincoln, a two-way, I started screaming.
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Keep your sanity, y’all.