Spent about a little over an hour on the road tonight in my girlfriend's jeep to buy new chairs and bring them to the Out of The Blue Art Gallery for tomorrow's Stone Soup show. Then going back to my girlfriend's home, of course. It took longer than I thought due to being forced to take an alternate route due to the alpha drivers refusing to let me correct the common mistake of being in the wrong lane where I'm forced to turn.
A year ago, a drive into rainy weather like this with all traffic would have terrified me. Today, I know two ways to get to Central Square Cambridge from her apartment and three ways to get back there. And it only took me twenty years. Mind you, I could have cared less about cultivating this talent for over a decade.
Part of me wants to be proud of myself. The other part of me wants to know how I got to be such a masterless jack of all trades, less the writer I want to be and more of a driver that can handle the road as long as no one is in the vehicle to show outrage at my mistakes. It's weird when it feels like such a waste of my time to be on the road, even when it's doing something I want and need to do.
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