The One Where Summer Ends
The worst thing about summer is that it makes you forget. In Kansas, it makes you forget how long and miserable the winters are. In Texas, you forget everything because it's too hot to think. In Southern California, you forget about traffic.
We don't have seasons out here. It's 60-70 all the time in Redondo Beach. I wear a jacket in the evenings in August and need a short sleeve shirt in the afternoon in January. But there's a difference in the summer -- the traffic slows down. It tricks me every year. I get used to my 20-minute commute turning into a 10-minute commute. I forget what it's like to finish a 10-hour day and have to sit on the freeway without moving. Then, the day after Labor Day happens, and I remember. I'm always shocked that I can forget.
I shouldn't really complain. My commute is incredible. There are people in my office who commute from Orange County and probably spend 3 hours a day in their cars. On a bad day my commute might take 30 minutes and that's only a handful of times a year. But there's a big difference between traffic in the summer and traffic the rest of the year. And once again, I forgot.
On a side note, my co-worker from Arizona who I recently let see this blog -- the first and only co-worker to ever know about this because of all the complaining I do -- wants to be known as Gandolf instead of Mark. So from here on out, he will be referred to as Gandolf the Party Wizard. ("Didn't you read Lord of the Rings in high school?" "No, I had sex in high school.")
We don't have seasons out here. It's 60-70 all the time in Redondo Beach. I wear a jacket in the evenings in August and need a short sleeve shirt in the afternoon in January. But there's a difference in the summer -- the traffic slows down. It tricks me every year. I get used to my 20-minute commute turning into a 10-minute commute. I forget what it's like to finish a 10-hour day and have to sit on the freeway without moving. Then, the day after Labor Day happens, and I remember. I'm always shocked that I can forget.
I shouldn't really complain. My commute is incredible. There are people in my office who commute from Orange County and probably spend 3 hours a day in their cars. On a bad day my commute might take 30 minutes and that's only a handful of times a year. But there's a big difference between traffic in the summer and traffic the rest of the year. And once again, I forgot.
On a side note, my co-worker from Arizona who I recently let see this blog -- the first and only co-worker to ever know about this because of all the complaining I do -- wants to be known as Gandolf instead of Mark. So from here on out, he will be referred to as Gandolf the Party Wizard. ("Didn't you read Lord of the Rings in high school?" "No, I had sex in high school.")
posted by Rachel at
8:55 PM
3 Comments:
Don't forget about your boyfriend, who spends two hours in the car each day.
By
Ned Ryerson, at 7:34 AM
That's true, but you don't complain as much as the people in my office... At least you're going against traffic. If you've ever tried to drive to Costa Mesa at 5 p.m., you know what I mean.
By
Rachel, at 11:02 AM
I cannot fathom spending that much time in your car. I work w/ a girl that commutes an hour each way. I find that to be pure insanity. I say, move closer or work somewhere else. But I live in the midwest sprawl, so what do I know.
By
Monica, at 10:04 AM
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