It is a love/hate thing

I love to drive. I do it for my job and I do it well. I can, will, and have driven from my place to Chicago and still put in a few hours of work when I get there. It might not sound like much but imagine sitting in your favorite chair, listening to music, taking the occasional (very occasional for me) phone call, not being able to read, not being able to stand up when you want or grab something from the fridge for about 8 hours. Sure, you stop once, maybe twice, but for 8 hours you sit.

I have seen giant pumpkins made out of bales of hay, places advertising that they are in need of an "ass mechanic" (a garage someplace in Indiana) giant cowboys (Latrobe) and a lot of other things that escape my mind right now. I have zoned out in Ohio and snapped back to realize that I've traveled 30 miles with out seeing another vehicle. I love to drive.

I hate to drive. It is being stuck in a mobile office while talking to myself because there is nobody to talk to. It is a lonely job where the most recent thing is that I get to be a spy and suggest courses of action that should be taken. It is a job that I would like to share with someone but being as I am contemplating monkhood, I shouldn't be too worried about it. My back gets cramped up, my hip hurts from dealing with the gas pedal, sometimes I get headaches from staring out the window.

I get to do it again in 8 hrs and who knows where I will go tomorrow.

monk