Commute

There was a time once when my sister decided that she would step open the car door while it was still moving. We happened to be turning a corner at the time, and she flew out. We dragged her, still attached to the door, into a parking lot.

This is what I told Ellen this morning, and I was surprised to hear that she had a similar story about her own sister. I tried hard to not focus on how quickly we were weaving in and out of traffic and kept talking, though there are some days when I would be grateful for a car radio that works. “My poor husband,” she said, “I don’t think he’s fully realized that I have a horse.” Her odometer is still stuck on 233023. Her shopping list: ground beef, bread, cat food, raspberries, pectin, sugar, eggs, blueberries, antibiotic ointment and a new saddle. Blueberries, pectin and sugar crossed off.

Talk in the car this morning turned to baby stories. Sometimes it is nice to have Jen there, because she talks constantly, and there are never awkward breaks in conversation. The operative word there is ‘sometimes’. After a while she just starts complaining about her fiancée, her mother-in-law, people that don’t like her dog, coworkers, traffic and housework. Maybe I am an unsympathetic bitch, but I get tired of these things easily.

I know that I will regret saying this later, but I wish that summer would end right now. I’ve been out of school for nearly two months and I think I’m ready to go back now. I love my job and I come home smiling every night, but I still feel really restless, like I should be doing more. I have an increasingly shorter attention span. I need papers to write.