If I retire (and God knows I'm getting old enough) this will be the reason. Getting up at 5:15 in the morning is not a problem for me. The mornings have always been my favorite time of day. Having a reason to get dressed and out of the house is a good and healthy thing. My job (now that I have kissed my "career" goodbye) is cute. There is little pressure, and when I close the door at the end of the day I don't give it another thought until I turn on the lights in the morning. But the commute is going to kill me.
The ride in is usually tolerable. Three days a week Himself and I ride together. We are far enough down the line so we generally get a seat (critical!) and he likes to do the daily crossword puzzle together which could one day mean the end of a marriage which has lasted 26 years so far, but whatever. Then we read our books. Two days a week I commute on my own as Himself leaves our home at around 6:00 AM and RUNS to work. It's ten miles and he's become a bit of a legend in the office because of it. In the winter he is lit up like a Christmas tree, because it's dark out there, but from now until sometime in October he leaves in the light, heads to his sports club and takes a shower and dons the outfit he has left in the locker the day before.
And then there's the commute home. I have been known to travel 6 stations in the wrong direction in order to get a seat for the ride home. Getting a seat makes a world of difference. Eye contact must be avoided at all costs. If I can dive into a mystery or some other amusing book I become oblivious to the world around me. But when I look around it strikes me how like a bad Sci-Fi movie the world has become. Everyone is plugged in. Babies in strollers are playing with Mommy's iPad. Music is leaking out of earphones, which makes me wonder what it sounds like from the inside, and my personal favorite is the loud one-sided inane telephone call which could REALLY have waited. Most of the time, however, I do manage a seat. The gray hair works for me. And my look of death, which, if I do say so myself, I have pretty much perfected. If someone offers me a a seat I never say no. That behavior is to be encouraged. Himself sometimes gets cranky because if there is one seat I always get it. Well, I'm older. And I'm short. And I'm fast as greased lightning and weave my way like a football player through the crowd until I score!
But the thrill of the chase is losing its edge. The broken air conditioning, the times when I'm stuck nose to nose (or nose to armpit in my case), the language, the complete lack of civility is just getting to me. Not that I'm about to drive into town every day, which would present its own problems in the areas of civility and expense. Maybe I'm just turning into that cranky old lady who gets into fights in the T parking lots with people who insist on going against the arrows in the rows (God, I hate that!). Maybe it's time for me to sit on my front porch and yell at the people who insist on blowing through that damn "STOP" sign. Nah. Not yet. But I can smell it from here.
The ride in is usually tolerable. Three days a week Himself and I ride together. We are far enough down the line so we generally get a seat (critical!) and he likes to do the daily crossword puzzle together which could one day mean the end of a marriage which has lasted 26 years so far, but whatever. Then we read our books. Two days a week I commute on my own as Himself leaves our home at around 6:00 AM and RUNS to work. It's ten miles and he's become a bit of a legend in the office because of it. In the winter he is lit up like a Christmas tree, because it's dark out there, but from now until sometime in October he leaves in the light, heads to his sports club and takes a shower and dons the outfit he has left in the locker the day before.
And then there's the commute home. I have been known to travel 6 stations in the wrong direction in order to get a seat for the ride home. Getting a seat makes a world of difference. Eye contact must be avoided at all costs. If I can dive into a mystery or some other amusing book I become oblivious to the world around me. But when I look around it strikes me how like a bad Sci-Fi movie the world has become. Everyone is plugged in. Babies in strollers are playing with Mommy's iPad. Music is leaking out of earphones, which makes me wonder what it sounds like from the inside, and my personal favorite is the loud one-sided inane telephone call which could REALLY have waited. Most of the time, however, I do manage a seat. The gray hair works for me. And my look of death, which, if I do say so myself, I have pretty much perfected. If someone offers me a a seat I never say no. That behavior is to be encouraged. Himself sometimes gets cranky because if there is one seat I always get it. Well, I'm older. And I'm short. And I'm fast as greased lightning and weave my way like a football player through the crowd until I score!
But the thrill of the chase is losing its edge. The broken air conditioning, the times when I'm stuck nose to nose (or nose to armpit in my case), the language, the complete lack of civility is just getting to me. Not that I'm about to drive into town every day, which would present its own problems in the areas of civility and expense. Maybe I'm just turning into that cranky old lady who gets into fights in the T parking lots with people who insist on going against the arrows in the rows (God, I hate that!). Maybe it's time for me to sit on my front porch and yell at the people who insist on blowing through that damn "STOP" sign. Nah. Not yet. But I can smell it from here.
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