Fessing Up

Okay. So... Maybe I wasn't totally honest about what I say in my head when commuting when I wrote about it last week. (That would be in the A Mostly Internal Monologue post.)

And, yes, a reader who may be one of my sisters, but who shall remain nameless (unless, well, you go back and read her response to that post), commented that her commuting monologue might be a bit more colorful than mine. Of course, she does live in the LA area, so her commute is - on average - much longer than mine is on the worst of days (although I'm guessing the mileage isn't too different - as the crow flies). So she has a right to that language.

Of course, as you might guess, since we come from the same family, our language just might sound about the same. (In other words, I'm admitting that my language when stuck in traffic is probably a bit more colorful than I said it was in that last post.)

Here's the thing, though: It's really not that much different. Tonight, during a light snow, for example, it took me about 75 minutes to get home from work. (Last night, with no snow, it took me 35 minutes - and that included a stop at the grocery store.)

And I was trying to pay attention, again, to what I was saying. A lot of it was the same. I still yelled (in my car) at the person behind me who obviously wanted me to pull forward onto the train tracks when I knew that I wasn't going to get across before the light changed.

I was happy to see that the "No Ma Dy Inn" is back to being the "Normandy Inn."

I played along with a couple of games on the radio.

And I think I may have used the word "shit" a few times when I realized that the lane I had just moved into was now fully stopped for no apparent reason, while the one I had just left was moving right along.

Christopher will tell you that my language often gets rather colorful in the car. When I'm frustrated (usually if I'm running really late to get somewhere) I call other drivers some fun names. I say words that are written in the Comics as "#%*@!!".

Yet, when I'm stuck on my commute and mainly just frustrated because the longer I'm in the car the longer the pup has to wait to go outside, I really don't seem to swear that much. I do a little pleading, sometimes, wishing people would just MOVE. I whine a bit. I even call people names. But, oddly enough, I don't swear that much.

So... Hmm... I guess this is more a "nonfession" than a "confession."

Sorry for being so anticlimactic.