Normally, I read a lot of books on my way to work. I’m captive...

Normally, I read a lot of books on my way to work. I’m captive anyway, and I have a full 3 hours (if not more on a sucky “We Apologize for Any Inconvenience” day) to sit and wish I lived somewhere that my daily commute wasn’t a daily 3 hours. I still can’t get over the fact that every other city I’ve ever lived in (Memphis, Philly, Toronto), as well as the places I’ve visited, if I travelled an hour and a half to get somewhere, I ended up in a different city. (i.e. From the very edge of the Mississippi River in Downtown Memphis, an hour and a half will get you to Jackson, TN, a small town with about 50 miles of blank highway between it and the last suburb of Memphis.)

Needless to say (and if you’ve been following me for any time at all, you already know this), my work commute is slowly draining my very sanity away. And though I try to fill it back up with good books, when the car looks like the picture above (see above), and I’m operating with tyrannosaurus rex arms (i.e. elbows pinned down so my hands are operating at boob-level only [see picture below]), it’s 1. very difficult to get a book out of my bag and 2. very difficult to operate a book while being smushed from all sides. 

Lately, the subway is more crowded than it used to be. I rarely get a seat, and I rarely read more than a few paragraphs before someone jostles all the joy out of it. Gonna have to switch to audiobooks if I want to use this mountain of annoying time-suck in any constructive way at all.