What I thought about on the ride home today

I hate my commute.

There. I said it.

I know I don't have the hardest, or most grueling, or longest, or most traffic-congested commute in the greater NYC area. But still, it is 50 minutes of highway. Highway that separates me from my family after a long day. There is nothing as depressing to me as walking out the door at 6 p.m. knowing I will not see my family for at least 50 minutes. Knowing by the time I get home, Peanut will be exhausted - winding down her day and that I have less than an hour with her until she collapses into bed. Loaf is not far behind her.

Tonight, I hit traffic and my commute was extended an additional 25 minutes. Lucky me.

I didn't mind my commute so much when I worked part-time and only had to make it two days a week. But five days a week? It's exhausting. It's depressing. It makes me really, really angry.

Tonight on my extra-long ride home, unable to find anything decent on the radio, my mind jumped from one thing to the next. And at some point, it landed on my blog. My poor, sad, neglected blog.

I thought about how I used to have such a zest for posting. I loved my little creative outlet; my readers, my comments. I loved reading other people's blogs - and commenting on them - as well. What the heck happened?

I know the answer . . . full-time work, too little time, too much stress and . . . a draining commute.

But tonight sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I realized that today is November 1. The first official day of National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo, for those in the know). And sitting there in that traffic, I decided to give it a go.

They say it takes 21 days to establish a new habit. I have 30. Let's see how it goes? If nothing else, I have my commute each day to try to think about something to post. Wheeee!