Jaci Dawn

It took me an hour and a half to drive 22 miles tonight, and that was only because I cut through Lake Grove. I have no idea how long it would have taken if I had attempted to merge onto the “freeway” (I-5) and gone that route. I shudder to think about it.

So here I am, stuck in traffic that is not moving any faster than 5 miles per hour (it took me 45 minutes to travel 7 miles, hello?) and the guy behind me (or the woman, since I picked up two of them at different points during the seven miles) is trying to push me down the road with his bumper. HELLO? I can not drive any faster than the car in front of me. And since I prefer to leave a small gap in front of me when I stop (like, say, I can see the guy’s bumper and his tires), I would appreciate it if you would do the same for me. Because you’re going to eat a bumper someday and I hope it isn’t mine. Because I would be really pissed off).

The past week has been horrid. No problem driving TO work. I’ve made it 22 miles in 30 minutes in the morning. But coming home?? There have been massive wrecks, stalls, and what not every single night. 22 miles has taken me no less than 75 minutes. Tonight it took 90.

I.Hate.My.Commute. There, I said it. All my negative energy pressed into four words. I love my job, love the people I work with, HATE my commute.

This morning, I walked out to get into my car and I had a flat tire. Big sigh. I called my boss and left her a voice mail assuring her I was not starting my vacation a day early: I really did have a flat tire. I called her again while I was eating my breakfast of black coffee and stale popcorn.

“You must be at Les Schwab!” she said, cheerfully.

Yay for AAA and Les Schwab: I was only 1.5 hours late to work today. I had a rock in my tire the size of Gibraltor. OK, it was the size of a small arrowhead, but still… a ROCK? From OR 217, of course. I hate my commute.

No charge, btw. I love Les Schwab.

My husband took me out to dinner. What a wonderful man. We ate at Carl’s Jr. and then we hit the local grocer for our last minute groceries and ice.

The house/dog sitters move in tomorrow. They will be here until we return home in July. Don’t even think of burglarizing the house: they’re ex-National Guard. I think ex, but maybe they’re still current. ?? I don’t care: soldiers are guarding my house while we’re on vacation. And not only soldiers, but the doula who helped my daughter through three births. She has a Mama Bear’s Heart.

WE – Don, Jaci and Murphy – are headed to Colorado to see our newest grandchild, sweet Korrine. Harvey (who gets horridly carsick and hates to travel) is staying here with the house sitters.

I am going to miss posting and miss reading up on my friends’ blogs, but I am not going to miss my commute. Not one little bit.

I hate the city. I really do. I would love to have a five-minute small town commute. Oh well.

I do love my job and that worth it. Right?