Dear darling commute,
A week ago, a female friend of mine said she dropped her child off at nursery at the same time as another parent and ended up doing her whole commute to work with this dad whose office is near hers. The utter horror. I can think of no greater (legal) infringement of my boundaries than this.
No one gets between me and my commute. Call it new love (thank you covid) but my commute on the sweaty, crowded, aggressive Northern line, is the highlight of my day. The last thing before I think about at night is my commute. I wake up and spring out of bed for my commute!
“Why?!?” I hear you yell at this blog post! Well, it is the only time in my day when I don’t have a small child demanding my time and love. Where I don’t look at a pile of laundry to be done or even have the internet connection to order children’s clothes. And I’m not at work. So, there’s no fretting over a client’s email, or drafting a document for a briefing.
It’s MY time. It’s time to listen to a funny podcast, to do my codeword puzzles, to read my trashy yet fascinating book. I could even sit/stand there and stare into the middle-distance dreaming of the glass of wine that awaits at the end of a long day. I can do WHATEVER I want.
That is why, commute, I love you. I just thought you should know.
AKA the exhausted mother of two you’ve been seeing for a few months now