God did not want me coming to work today

I say this mostly because of the fact that a) my body did not want to be roused from sleep and b) there was an accident or abnormal delay on every road I took to get to work (except my street – everything was fine in the ‘hood.)

Ordinarily, I say – whatever – to delays and just sit in traffic, idly staring at the wealth and privilege around me (actually, I’m usually looking up because I drive a Volkswagen, and they all drive Mercedes’ SUVs). If I’m not moving at all, I’ll send a text message or put my phone on speaker and check in with work. But that’s all when I’m stuck in my usual spot: between Fairfield and Westport. Thus the luxury.

But not today. Today, I was delayed by poor driving and poor dead animals in the following Connecticut towns: Plymouth, Waterbury, Every Single Town along the Route 8 corridor in the “All American Valley,” and then of course, Fairfield, Easton, Westport and Norwalk.

Additionally, I drove the last 20 miles of my daily adventure with my gas light on. Probably not my best choice, I realize, but just when I was about to stop to get gas, traffic started moving, so I considered it a sign from above. Above, being, the driver of the Mercedes’ next to me, signaling that I could move into her lane.

Have I mentioned lately that I hate my commute?