Ugh. That about sums up how I'm feeling today after my evening commute. Since our clients are in the US, we have to work at this time coz this is their day. My shift starts at 7 PM and ends at 5 AM the next day.
Naturally, waking up is the most stressful time of the day. Think about it, we've just spent 7 or so hours in peaceful slumber all warm and cozy in our beds. And then the noise happens. That God awful, worse than ‘nails down the chalkboard noise’. You know the noise I'm talking about. That's right: the alarm clock. Mine is on my phone. It’s a wonder I haven’t broken my phone yet. I come very close to it, though. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. And from that moment forward, nothing's nearly as calm and relaxing as it was 15 minutes prior when you were still fast asleep and safely snuggled under the covers. Everything all of a sudden seems so difficult, so stressful, and so hard. And sure, maybe not being a morning person has something to do with the fact that before 2-3 hrs of waking up, I'm only capable of incomprehensible mumblings, or that every day on my way to the shower I walk into at least one wall.
And while it's true, commuting is no piece of cake - especially for a non-morning person -I've become so adept at driving through the crowds and pushing and shoving my way on the roads that I could do it in my sleep (although probably not the best idea). But nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for this evening's traumatic commute.
The roads were packed. But I thrusted and bit my way inch by inch. To top things off, there was a traffic hold up at the all-important mount road junction. Probably some damn minister passing through… Like the government doesn’t do enough! Anyway, after about twenty five minutes of patience and by that I mean under-the-breath curses, I could take no more. And then as if the road had erupted in flames, the people rammed and shoved their way hard and fast. And then there was me. Sweet, little me (if I do say so myself) violently jostled and flung this way and that, backwards and forwards, in circles and squares until I finally fought my way through onto the safety of this side of the signal. But it turns out, safety was all an illusion. I was nestled tightly between at least 20 vehicles, 18 of them bigger than mine. Finally, after some careful moves, out of danger from the bigger vehicles, my prayers were answered, my assertiveness rewarded.
And when I finally reached my office parking space, I breathed the fresh air and swore on somebody important's grave that I'd start earlier from tomorrow so I could avoid this rush.
And the beauty of being all talk and no action like me is that I get to say things like that and then not follow through with them.
