I am a pretty simple person blah blah…. I don’t like complications in life, but somehow complications seem to find me. One part of my life that I don’t like to complicate is the morning commute. It makes no sense to travel an average of 2+ hours back and forth to work. Sitting in traffic for the occasional half-hour is traumatic enough for me. In my quest for simplicity, I may have somehow developed some insane behaviors related to the rush hour.
So my mission already impossible is to get out of the house approximately 30 minutes before I need to be at work. Of course being the Kenyan I am, there always seems to be something that takes up an extra five or so minutes before I get out of the door. And most of the time it will be something as lame as I cannot remember where I put the car keys the night before or even worse the minute before. Now you would think that this being a reoccurring theme, I would have established a familiar place for the keys. This is besides the fact that I pretended not to hear the alarm clock and could not for the life of me figure what I should wear to work. Wearing uniforms to work seems ideal at this time in the morning. The real chai would also have to be postponed and I have to settle for the fake microwave tea at work.
The usual 100m dash to my car is in order. I must have my neighbors dumbfounded because I always act like I’m trying to make it into a getaway car. I also happen to be carrying a mountain of stuff ranging from lotion to umbrella, depending on the day/season/condition of my hair/what I’m doing after work.
It usually takes me about 15 minutes to work, but of course I want to show my boss that I’m not just a regular employee and I will give the company 5 extra minutes of my day. I’m lucky that my place of work is kinda flexible so I’m not so caught up in the time game but I still try to maintain a good rep. So I get onto the expressway; after all it is supposed to be faster. Now this is where the madness comes in. Apparently I have mastered the psychology of morning traffic. I know which lane moves faster and at what exact point I should join that lane. When I feel like I’m conquering the massive traffic and making time, it gives me such contentment, I can often be found smiling while cruising to downtown and with equal effort cursing that the guy in front of me just let someone else in. Of course there are days where traffic is painfully slow and I have exited so I could take the back roads in an effort to save time but unconsciously it is to save me from myself.
I guess if I want to be simple, I should enjoy the drive, keep to my lane and cruise on until whenever I get to work. But then that would probably mean waking up earlier and pretending to like being stuck behind some SUV and God forbid it’s being driven by a someone who is on a morning stroll. I said I’m simple not boring, I derive pleasure from everyday things like not getting stuck in traffic on a daily basis and minimizing exposure to mindless morning talk radio. When I get to work, I’m on mission impossible II; how to make the 8-hour day shorter and get everything done. I still have evening traffic to maneuver. I guess I’ve just proven I’m type A, but that’s for another day.
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