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Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off on a Long Ride to Work We Go
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There are definite plusses to being a freelance writer. For one, I can work in my pajamas, a tuxedo, or a tutu as the mood hits me. Of course that means I'd have a lot of explaining to do when the FedEx guy shows up, friends drop by unannounced in the middle of the day for coffee because I freelance so of course I don't have anything more important to do, and the clerk at the store looks at me funny when I ask for a men's size 32 tutu. In black not pink, of course. Hey, even I have my limits.
It also means I can wake up late, work at midnight if the moods strikes me, and run errands during the afternoon while telling myself I'm not procrastinating when of course I am. But perhaps best of all, it means my commute to work involves walking twenty feet with a cup of coffee in my hand trying not to trip over any empty pizza boxes.
It certainly beats the 51 minutes a day the average person in the U.S. spends commuting to work. That's 221 hours a year, or 9.2 days. To put it in perspective, that's about nine days longer than most of the new fall TV shows deserve to be on the air. This is a lot of time spent sitting in a car, bus, or commuter train. And since it's an average, that means there are people who spend several hours commuting every day in order to make up for my 12.45 seconds. Thirteen on a day when there are more pizza boxes littering the floor than usual. That's why I have an unlisted telephone number -- I don't want any of those people coming after me complaining that there's an unequal distribution of commute times. Hey, this is America, the Declaration of Independence says nothing about us having an inalienable right to sleep in a little longer. I just happen to have been smart enough to pick a career that lets me do it. And don't mind being broke.
These commuting facts came to light thanks to the U.S. Census Bureau (motto: "Estimating our way into the 21st Century"). When they conducted the 2000 census most of us received a short form which included questions like "How many people live in your household?", "Are you sure?", and "Haven't you ever heard of birth control?" Others got the long form, which went into much more detail, asking how you heat your house, how you get to work, how much money you make, and whether you agree that all this is none of their damned business. Since they've already released the data telling us how many people live where, what their personal demographics are, and how this will affect redistricting so more Republicans can be elected, they've worked their way down to the more obscure information, like how many American homes still use outhouses (670,986) and how much time we spend commuting. Guess what? We spend more time in the car than the bathroom.
Commuting does have a positive side. For one, it gives you a chance to become more cultured by listening to National Public Radio, picturing how the hottie in the car next to you would look as a nude classical Greek statue, and listening to books on tape, especially long ones that take up lots of boring commute time like Robin Williams' rendition of War and Peace, which would undoubtedly sell more if they released it as Good Morning St. Petersburg.
Commutes can also be educational. I recently saw two billboards near Sacramento, CA, one which let me know I could get "Breast Implants -- only $3,800" and the other for a restaurant called Murder Burger. The first could be handy to know, though for my personal safety I need to watch who I recommend it to. The second is more questionable. I'm not sure it's the best image to put in people's minds when they're driving. After all, road rage is still a problem in this country, even though it's dropped down the list beneath more recent fears such as terrorism, shaky corporate accounting, and reality TV shows featuring fascinating people such as Anna Nicole Smith.
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