What happens when you move to the burbs and go crazy.

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This is probably part 1 of many.

My husband and I made the agreeable next step in marriage and bought a house, in the burbs, even though kids are nowhere in our near future. Not being millionaires and including a pool on the must-have list, burbs were the only fit. The dreaded burbs. I work downtown, so my life has been pure torture. Since I now spend about 13 hours a week commuting, audio-books and podcasts are like fried food after a night of excessive drinking, necessary to survive but would be more enjoyable under different circumstances. I’ve been hooked on topics focused around political injustices of varying kinds, listening to American Sniper, Serial Podcast, In Cold Blood, and now Sword and Scale Podcast, which is a True Crime podcast that is absolutely chilling and addictive. This heightened amount of awareness in a short period of time leaves me feeling outraged, enlightened, a bit scared, and empowered all at the same time. When shit gets too real and I start thinking about who I might know that has a dark side, why is the world so fucked up, and how we can do nothing because money always wins or the system is so flawed, I have to take a step back and listen to Chelsea Handler memoirs and Pitbull hits. I seem to falter between deliberate ignorance and too much awareness. The most recent episode I listened to reminded me that I need to add some people to the “No Fly” list at the front gate. YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT PEOPLE ARE GOING TO DO, TRUST YOUR GUT. This is when shit gets too real and I switch to Bang, Bang and listen to Chelsea handler call her lady parts some funny-sounding Jewish word.

 

I also consistently feel so sorry for myself commuting, which is ironic (in a sad way) since there are many other real problems in the world that I’m slightly obsessed with becoming aware about lately. I have no chill when it comes to the issues that surround commuting, even though they are entirely out of my hands. I yelled at a person in their car causing a traffic jam, keeping my bus from getting to me and adding time to my already ridiculous commute. After, I realized how crazy I must have looked and now people were avoiding me on the bus. No. Chill. This could get me shot one day, so I need to get a grip. I realize lots of people commute but I don’t understand how or why. No one feels too bad for me, except me. After going through two tanks of gas in a week, paying for tolls and still taking an hour minimum each way, then paying for parking downtown, I decided the bus was the next step. I absolutely hate the bus and the only thing that would make it worthwhile would be bringing wine with me for the afternoon commute home. Let’s be real, some mimosas in the morning would make life a lot better too. I have not crossed these options off the list but feel compelled to disclaim for the public and if my boss ever reads this that I would only  ever seriously consider drinking on the ride home from work.

 

Currently taking donations for a helicopter and a wine club membership, new job offers that don’t involve commuting, and suggestions for audio-books.  

-Kathryn

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