Getting Into The Groove...

Now that I'm a homeowner, there seems to be less hours in the day. When my eyes are open and I'm floating through what's supposed to be my real life (not a dream), I sometimes find myself on some bizarre and strict schedule which includes driving for THREE. HOURS. A. DAY. Not all at once - but pretty damn close. When it first started I thought I was going to drive myself right over the side of a bridge and end it all. Who ever heard of driving THREE. HOURS. A. DAY. to get to and from work? Even when the hubber helps with the carpooling and cuts about an hour off my time, we're still talking TWO. HOURS. A. DAY. And who'da thunk the simple act of buying a home would cause such nonsense?

Then, I got to thinking. I'm the dumbass that asked for this.

Moving to the country comes with certain inherent responsibilities. One being yard work. And lots of it. Another being driving. And lots of it. After a few weeks of swearing, honking and bashing my forehead against the steering wheel, I decided I'd better calm my ass down if I wanted to live a life free of migrains and ulcers.

So, I caved. I became a commuter. And a serious one, at that. I've learned how to apply makeup while in traffic. I've learned to quiz my kid on spelling words while in traffic. I've learned to allow people to merge in front of me even after they skipped to the front of the line while in traffic. I've learned to catch up on phone calls to family while in traffic. I've learned not to shoot the bird when other drivers won't let me merge after I've skipped to the front of the line while in traffic. Now, if I could just learn to send text messages without taking my eyes off the road like my sister does, I'll be all set!

Things that make it all worth while...

Sometimes, when I'm not behind the wheel, I find myself floating through life in a sparkling pool located in the best backyard EVER. Or piddling away in my greenhouse. Or walking J up the stairs while she says "good night" to Hubber 25 kazillion different ways. Or sipping on a Cruzan & Coke while Hubber's outside flipping Pappa burgers. Or staring in amazement at this huge thing I own - of this new, wonderful life I'm a part of. Those are the hours I lose track of. So, maybe they make up for all the time I spend driving.