The Commute, and Happier Things

It’s absolutely incredible how quickly rush hour traffic can destroy a good mood. Today started off well, but by the time I got stuck behind the third car going 55 in the fast lane, I was ready to start bashing metal first and thinking later. And why, oh why, don’t people use their turn signals? There are a legion of drivers in Richmond who think that the little lever thingy on the side of their steering column is the trigger for World War III and must not — must NOT — be touched unless diplomacy fails and there’s no other option.

I’ve got about a 20-mile commute to the office in the morning. In theory, I like it: it gives me time to think both to and from work, and keeps my work and home life nicely divided. Plus, I get to live in both the city and the country, since my office is in downtown. But oh, the traffic…

However, now that I’m safely ensconced in my square little work world, my mind is turning back to pleasanter thoughts. I got a killer haircut last night, which goes a long, long way to making everything alright. I love — I adore — my hair salon (Scissors Riverside, on 18th Street). It’s a tiny little dark nook in the heart of downtown, what we locals call the Bottom. Tin roof, cobblestone streets, and all that. Only two stylists work there, and mine, Melissa, will commiserate with you on the state of the world, your garden, relationships, parents, architecture, self-worth, books, food, and so on. It’s a real girl bonding/power thing. I highly recommend it.

Another good thing on this cold sunny Friday is that I’m going to DC tonight to hang out with friends. I’ll finally get to see Bodhisattva Greg’s not-so-new apartment, which he moved into in July — I’m a slack friend, there’s no excuse. I think the plan is to have dinner and see a movie with Phil and Cecily. Phil has been Greg’s best friend for a very, very long time, and he’s one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. How to describe Phil? He’s got the soul of a 17th-century court poet trapped in the hyper-active body of a modern Renaissance man with Tourette’s. He was there on the infamous day I got bitten by a black widow, and on New Year’s Eve 1999, one of the most fun nights of my life. Cecily has been his patient girlfriend for over a year now, and I can’t wait to meet her. Rumor is she’s cool.

Since I’ve got 8 hours of work to get through before I can start my real life, I’d better get crackin’. Today’s soundtrack: The Velvet Underground. Plugging in, tuning out…