I spend alot of time in my car.

Which is odd because I really don’t like to drive. But since I graduated and started working I’ve had jobs that have required either alot of driving or long commutes. Since I bought my car in April of 2009, I’ve put 62000 miles on it.

That’s alot of driving. Granted, its not all work. It’s been driven to Florida, Ohio, and most notably a trip this summer for some continuing education. I woke up at the hotel the first morning and walked out to my car to find this:

Yeah, that’s underwear. And no, its not mine. Baxter and I (yes, I named my car….don’t judge) have obviously been through alot together.

For my current job I spend about 60% of the time seeing kids in clinic, and 40% of the time either seeing them in their home, or traveling to or from. Fortunately or unfortunately, this leaves me with quite a bit of time to think. Admittedly, I spend alot of it worrying. Mostly about infertility and whether I’m emotionally and financially strong enough for what it might take to have children. Actually it kinda cycles by my cycle. Early on I’m bitter, then hopeful as we move towards ovulation, as we move towards the end I’m a variation of hopeful and sad for the arrival of my unwanted visitor. I’ve imagined so many pregnancy announcement scenarios that I’m pretty much covered if I decide to become like the Duggars. Be prepared, right?

I’m two days from D-Day, and I’m tired of preparatory sadness (yeah, I really do that). So I need to distract myself. In the early morning the radio is a good distraction. I enjoy listening to a local morning show and chuckling at the daily “phone scam”. After that, though, it’s all kind of hit or miss.

Take today for instance:

For the most part I listen to Top 40 type stations. Except I’m pretty sure I don’t hear 40 different songs. Just the same 10 on repeat. I’ve heard Adele so many times that it makes a downlowd-so-I-can-learn-the-words completely unnecessary. After hearing “Move like Jagger” for the 387634th time, I decide it’s time to move on. (moooooooooooove like Jagger!)

Click.

My windows are down so I can’t really hear the music right away. Then I realize I’ve stumbled upon one of the stations that plays nothing but Christmas music from November on. And, ironically, is playing “Its beginning to look alot like Christmas”. Except its 75 degrees outside. (NOT complaining!) It’s been uncharacteristically warm here lately, and if it weren’t for the dead leaves floating around and the invention of the calendar, I would have thought it was Spring. I think we need to write an Its Beginning to Look Alot Like Christmas, South Carolina version:

It’s beginning to look alot like Christmas

Shorts in every store

Take a look at your snowy globe

Drive around with it as you go

Cuz that’s the only way that you’ll see snow

(again, not complaining…..I hate snow. But really, its not beginning to look anything like Christmas in this weather)

Click.

Commercials. UGH. I swear, too, that every station plays commercials at the same time on purpose. Unfortunately multiple clicks later, I’m still listening to commercials. And its trying to get me to buy a car. I’m good to go for awhile, luckily (and even have some spare underwear), but even as much as I try to tune them out, I can’t help but catch some of it. And it’s claiming that it will approve anyone with a job who makes $300 a week! No credit check!

Anyone else no longer confused about why we are in a recession?

To digress a bit, for some reason this reminds me of the TV commercials for antidepressants and the like. “I was still depressed until my doctor recommended such and such and then I really felt better.” Well, that’s awesome (seriously) but then there’s the laundry list of side effects (tell your doctor if you experience tremors, suicidal tendencies or symptoms of stroke….). Yeah, sign me right up.

Actually, maybe they are onto something. You know what commercials could use that disclaimer? Target. Can anyone else not go into Target for 1 thing and come out with 6? I can see it now…..la de da….sale at Target. Then disclaimer (only bring cash if you cannot keep control of your credit card. Maybe shoppers have reported experiencing “how did I end up with this much stuff?” syndrome. This was particularly prevalent in teens and women in their mid thirties….)

Okay, back on topic.

Once I’m finally able to find a (or half of) a good song, I sing along. Whitey Houston eat your heart out. I’ve just about finished my performance and am accepting my thunderous applause when I realize something.

Huh. You know what? I’m at my destination.

Well, maybe it’s a bit delusional but at least I’m not worrying anymore.

 

 

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