Commuting Complaints

I am so grateful that I generally work from home!  I am writing this from a recently-renovated (though still covered in plastic . . .?) hotel in New Hampshire for a training for one of my several part-time jobs. 

Before I could get here, I had a few things to deal with.  First, of course, there were my kids.  Grammy and Pop were more than happy to have an extended pajama party sleepover (as were my munchkins!).  Check. 

Dogs?  Grammy and Pop were willing to take them, too.  Check.

Fish.  My neighbor agreed to feed them.  Check. 


The difficulties started when my mother-in-law and I introduced my dogs to her newly-adopted dog who "likes dogs bigger than herself."  Apparently that does not yet include our dogs!  At one point she went after both of my dogs and got banned to the upstairs bedroom.  Not a good start!  (Although I have complete confidence that they will be getting along famously by the time I get back!)

Then there is the drive.  I know there are people who drive from Rhode Island to Boston (or New Hampshire) every day for work.  I cannot for the life of me figure out why. 

I don't usually mind driving.  In fact, after I stopped teaching I actually considered becoming an over-the-road truck driver.  (I blame it on too many viewings of Smokey and the Bandit as a kid!) 

Boy would that have been a bad career decision!

After 2-1/2 hours on the highway (at rush hour), I managed to get stuck in backups from 3 different accidents. 

Again, I don't usually get hung up on highway traffic, especially when I have plenty of time to get where I'm going.  I just find a good radio station, crank up the volume, sing at the top of my lungs, and life is good. 

But my radio still doesn't work.  And the portable one I have plugged into my cigarette would only get one station: a hip-hoppy thing that just wasn't working for me.  What about my CD collection?  Oh, yeah.  I left that in the hatchback . . . couldn't reach it.  All I had was The Bellamy Brothers CD already in the player. 

I like the Bellamys . . . well, I liked them more before psychotherapy, before I realized that a disproportionate number of their songs actually represented highly dysfunctional relationships . . . but by the second time through I was most definitely rejoicing to find the hotel and turn off the car! 

At least I have another day before I have to battle the commute again!