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Traffic Jam

I live exactly 16 miles from work.

I never know how long it's going to take me to get there. Last Monday, for example, it took 40 minutes, door to door. That's nirvana. This morning, it took almost two hours. It took one entire hour to move a grand total of six miles - along a six-lane limited access divided highway, no less. The only reason for the bottleneck was that a car had broken down in the right-hand lane, about a quarter-mile from the freeway entrance.

Ah, traffic!

Many people would practically have kittens when stuck in a logjam like that. Their blood would boil; their hands would curl into claws; steam would stream out of their ears.

I used to be one of them.

Not anymore.

I have learned to cope with traffic. I have embraced a "go with the flow" - or rather, a "creep with the sheep" - attitude toward my commute. I listen to my favorite radio show or to my soothing music playlist on my iPod. I grab my emery board and shape my nails. I yank errant hairs out of my chin. Books-on-Tape is a favorite diversion, although I do tend to get so absorbed in the plot that I space out until I hear horns honking.

In any case, I do my best to relax rather than rant, restrain myself rather then rage. Too many terrible accidents have happened in this area because of road rage; I do not want to be counted among them.

And I never schedule meetings for 9:00 am.