Shoes, Ships, and Sealing Wax

Breathe in. Breathe out.

It took me an hour and twenty minutes to get home from work this afternoon.

Have I ever mentioned that I live all of eleven miles from my office?

This is freaking insane...eighty minutes to go eleven miles.

I love where I live. I grew up here. In the 18 months I was gone I realized that I don't want to live anywhere but here. But in the last ten years or so the building and the traffic and the crowding has gotten so bad that when I actually leave my house, within minutes I feel like my head is going to explode.

I would be very tempted to buy a house within true walking distance of my office, if the insane development had not lead to a corresponding insane increase in property values that leaves the WWII-era 800-square foot bungalows around my office more expensive than I can afford, if they were even on the market, which they are not. (One was. I honest to God saw the "For Sale" sign for the first time on my way in one morning and by the time I left the office that afternoon the sign said "Under Contract.")

I don't want to move farther out...for one thing, I'd be in Fredericksburg or Gettysburg by the time I could afford it, and if it takes eighty minutes to drive eleven miles, how bad would a 65 mile commute be? My head would explode, no matter how many Zen books I read.

I'd consider bike commuting (even I can ride 11 miles an hour) except that with the traffic around here, and the drivers being a frightening combination of oblivious, careless, and hostile, instead of my head exploding it would likely be flattened under the wheel of a Dodge Durango.

Well, I'm supposed to go to my parents' for dinner. They live seven miles away, so I guess I better get started.