A Day in the Life (cont'd)

This morning’s commute covered 9.1 miles in 14 minutes and the Prius averaged 46.4 mpg. I really can’t complain. Compared to what many commuters have to endure, my hop, skip, and a jump to work barely even qualifies as real. About 95% of the drive is on freeways that—while perpetually under construction—as a rule are not subject to the stop-and-go irritation of surface streets. If one can stay clear of the idiots that I always caution our daughters to watch out for, the start and end of my working day is not all that unpleasant.

I do, however, begin to experience the discriminatory classism that defines my working environment as soon as I reach the parking garage. Now, given that I do not have to pay for covered parking in the County garage, I’m not expecting any sympathy. What is not so obvious, however, is that there is a garage just across the street from the building in which I work. To park in the Clark Place garage would save having to walk the three blocks from the County garage, but I simply count it as phase two of my morning exercise routine. The rub comes from knowing that only the “privileged” class (attorneys, administrators, etc) have access to Clark Place, and from the constant memos reminding us commoners that we are not to integrate with the chosen ones.

Again, I am just trying to explore the dynamics of what I know. I wish that my offering was a tad more exciting, but perhaps that will come in tomorrow’s breathtaking installment in which I will elaborate on exactly what it is that I do with forty hours of my life each week. Try to get some sleep tonight…