Numero uno on my list of easiest things to become irritated at are my commutes. Time spent getting from ordinary obligatory place to ordinary obligatory place seems like time wasted to me. But perhaps that is because I tend to waste the time.
Alone in the car I race the minutes and turn the radio up full blast. Sometimes I even play on my phone at red lights.
On the bus and metro I annoyingly spread myself out just so, passively daring anyone to try to sit next to me, the girl with the knitting needles who looks green from motion sickness.
Even when A gives me a ride, I’m stressed because I think I’m stressing him out. Traffic becomes even more onerous than when solo. Red lights are a personal offense. In all, the time spent traveling to and fro is time spent wishing I was already there, or already back again.
My attitude is completely contrary to all advice-bombarding of “it’s the journey, not the destination” and its like. I accept this wisdom’s conclusions in a metaphorical sense, and on clear adventures of exploring new places. Why else take a train or drive cross-country instead of boarding a fast cramped plane? Why else throw away a great job to try to build a career in which I believe?
It’s time to bring it down to the mundane. Too much stress courses through these veins, and little bean does not deserve that negative adrenaline. So today, I’m leaving early, taking advantage of this beautiful weather, and riding my bike to work. Though a slightly scary option, it takes the same amount of time as the bus and the metro and gee I get to be outside. I was sad to miss Trident today (a quiz had to be readied and taken) but at least I’ll be moving a little bit.