This post is really about nothing. It’s essentially me whining, so feel free to move on to other more substantial posts. ;-D
Frequent visitors may remember my post from a few weeks ago about how my job circumstances were
forcing requiring me to commute into NYC three days a week. Well, nearly 3 weeks later, I’m adjusting to my new situation and trying to roll with it, in hopes that it’ll come full circle and I’ll recover my blessed 10 minute commute again. I’m not normally an optimist, but when it comes to work, I tend to become a rose-colored glasses kind of guy.
Anyway, I’ve been exhausted. I drop my son off at the bus, haul my butt over to the train station, buy my ticket, take a seat, and hope that whoever sits next to me today (because the train is often full by the time we reach Penn Station) is a normal/healthy human being. It’s never a cute girl. Why don’t the cute girls want to sit next to me? It’s always some suit who smells like he’s already worked a full day at 8:30 am. Then, it’s an hour to the city (on the express), up into Penn Station, through the crowds, and down to the subway to catch a downtown train to 14th Street, where I come up onto 16th and walk over from 8th Ave to 9th. Finally, I walk into Chelsea Market, up a flight of stairs, and into the office, where I take my seat in a department that isn’t even mine (they’re at capacity and ran out of room in the copy department).
My work day is no different from my old work day. I put in my 8 hours (if I’m lucky) and head home. Then it’s the morning commute in reverse, except if I’m late for the train. Then it’s like I’m Snake Plissken (1000 points to Gryffindor or the house of your choice if you get that reference). Last week, my usual train was cancelled, which meant that everyone who was going to be on that train got on the next train. I stood, between cars no less, for and hour and fifteen minutes. I love the smell of burning brake dust in the evening. It smells like life.*
*This is a lie.
So, I’ve been forced to move my beddy-by time up. 10:00 PM guarantees I get my 8 hours in. Anything less and I’m dragging my butt out of bed the next morning. It’s certainly put a kink in my available writing time. I get home around 7:15 PM, eat dinner, relax a little, and then I’m looking at the clock. Last night, I was in bed by 9:30 and asleep by 10. I still didn’t want to get up when the alarm went off at 6:30 and I’m sure the torrential rain outside didn’t help. Better rain than snow, I guess!
Thanks for stopping by and listening to me ramble about my first-world problems. Having a job is a rough life. 😉