For all my talk of lovely fall weather, not-so-lovely fall traffic is kicking my ass. Well, technically it’s expanding my ass, because my ass spends way too much time planted in the bucket seat of a Honda Civic. Good thing I just joined a gym.
(After quitting the disastrously managed Bally’s in a huff, I talked to my poor 24 Hour Fitness rep like a been-bu
Anyway, two hours of traffic hell on Wednesday mo
Everything that day seemed like a crisis or proof that I didn’t treat myself well (since I—what?—chose to live my life in a variety of parts of town? So in a weird way I was blaming myself too). A couple of years of therapy taught me that self-sacrifice (voluntary or traffic-induced) leads to bitchiness rather than generosity. Or, as a guest speaker at All Saints pointed out one time, “Women especially tend to ignore the ‘self’ part of ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’”
Determined to regain the self time that traffic had stolen from me, I slung my backpack with laptop on my back and went to Starbucks at lunch. After getting my latte, I realized that every plug in every outlet was occupied by someone else’s laptop.
Cruel fate! I said in my head. Why am I the unluckiest person in the entire universe?
Latte in hand, I stomped past several homeless people until I reached the emptier Starbucks down the street.
Nevertheless, I’m glad it’s Friday. Tonight we’re going to see the always funny, insightful and sexy-butch Butchlalis de Panochtitlan as part of Highways’ Latino New Works Festival. Among the many things I like about Highways is that they have the good sense to start their shows at 8:30 p.m. after traffic has died down.
P.S. For some entertainment that doesn’t require any driving at all, check out