I like my life. It’s a good one – simple, enjoyable, fulfilling. I wake up at 5:35 each morning (I’m totally fine with this, because I’m very much a morning person), make myself a mocha to-go, and then take my bizarre and slightly dented dog for a good long walk to ‘grandma’s’ house. I meander back, dogless, saying ‘good morning!’ to the swans on the river, the bunnies frolicing on my driveway, and the fat raccoons just being fat in the morning sun. I have a shower, grab my husband-packed lunch (he’s seriously awesome, you know), hop in our Mini Cooper (named Abed because he’s “coolcoolcool”), plug in the ipod, and get ready for the 2nd worst part of my day. My commute to work.

It takes me about 35 minutes to get to work, and for the most part, it’s happily uneventlful. But every so often I’m forced to come to terms with the fact that people are dicks. Take happy, well-adjusted people, and put them behind a windshield and a steering wheel, and they magically transform into virulent she-beasts of selfishness. One person decides to dick-out and not let a truck merge, and another person follows suit. “Well if he did it, I can do it too!” I’m constantly amazed at how contagious bad driving is.

Anyway, I tend to make it to work still relatively upbeat, and proceed to put in my day of rewarding and purposeful work as a student advocate at an institute of higher learning. I have a bowl of oatmeal at my desk, I watch The Daily Show and a few cat videos on my lunch break, and I end my day with a hearty ‘See you tomorrow, ladies!’ as I lock my office at 3:30. As I walk to the car, I prepare myself for the worst part of my day. My commute home.

This is usually about 35 minutes of blood pressure yo-yo joy, and my mood tends to go from Hufflepuff to Slitherin by the time I pull into the oasis of my driveway. Going IN to work, people are tired, maybe a little grumpy, but overall they’re not really in a rush to get where they’re going. Mostly because they don’t want to actually go there. However, on the drive HOME, people become demon spawns as their determination to be home before anyone else makes them lose all sense of humanity. They’ve been sitting at a desk staring at a computer screen all day, and all they want to do is get home, sit on the couch, and stare at a computer screen all night, opening up the NSFW links that they’ve been sent throughout the day. This need makes people go batshit mental.

People speeding, cutting other cars off, not letting big trucks merge (I drive on a transport route, so I see this a lot), cutting in line, driving across two lanes of traffic to make a turn, and generally being of the firm belief that, a) they are the only person on the road who knows how to drive, and b) they’re the only person on the road, period. Every commute home for me is just one more notch on the Law of Averages scale, and it won’t be long before Abed is destroyed by some guy in a truck with a gun rack and a Peeing Calvin decal. *knocks wood*

I’m not the type of driver to give other drivers the bird. Do I get mad? You bet I do! But giving someone the finger is pointless. They’re expecting it, so it has no effect. And so that’s why I give the Double Thumbs Up, and the occasional Sarcastic Clap. People are NOT expecting that, and it generally makes me feel better. Listen, I’m a woman in a small car, and to be honest, it’s very hard for me to look menacing and disapproving when I roll up to a stop light and try to stare someone down as I’ve got Maestro Fresh Wes blaring out my window. I know my limitations. I know my odds.

The courtesy wave has gone extinct. The tiny  ‘thank you!’ hand gesture no longer applies. The correct zippler-like procedure of merging is a bygone relic. Turn signals? Don’t need ’em.  Waiting your turn? Naaaah…

*sigh* Poor Cheerleader I’m Married To. He has to put up with my black mood when I get home. I could have had the best day EVER, and after my commute home I feel suicidal at the prospect that humanity has disintegrated into a useless flock of selfish jackwads. However, once I’m in the house, being greated by my odd and ever-so-slightly-sideways dog, and I’m in the arms of the man who just poured me a drink, I’m back to being me.

Simple, happy, life-enjoying, non-commuting me.

Happy Thursday!