About once a week I drive my husband to work (well he drives there and then I drive home). For him it's a chance to sleep in but for me it's an event. It goes something like this....
1. Say hello to neighbours that I never see.
2. Stop at neighbourhood cafe for coffee.
3. Listen to talk radio or Derringer on Q107 (hubby's got me hooked) depending how grumpy he is.
4. He weaves through traffic while I sip my coffee and take in the sights.
I love people watching. The crazy-ass couriers, the business men and women, kids hurrying to school....ahh the buzz of city life before 9:00 a.m. I love the hustle and the bustle. In fact I miss it.
He thinks I'm crazy. Why would I choose to enter this rat race if I didn't have to? What's so exciting?
He doesn't get my need to feel a part of the working world, if not just for twenty minutes. He gets to put on a suit, go to his big, important job, step out for a Starbucks break, meet friends for lunch, be a part of the action. While I spend the majority of my day I babbling to my 8 and a half month old, or singing mindless, made up songs. Don't get me wrong, I love being with her, but sometimes I crave adult stimulation.
So during that morning drive, I pretend like I'm heading to my big, fancy, downtown office. As we pull up to his office tower and I step out of the passenger's side and make my to the driver's seat, I feel like an outsider in my uniform of flipflops, yoga pants, tank top and hair in a messy ponytail.
On the way home as I listen to my baby coo in the back seat as I sing Sharon, Lois and Bram, I smile. And thank my lucky stars that I'm on maternity leave.
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2 comments:
I'm so glad to be out of the rat race. I know what you mean though. I feel a little pang sometimes if I'm out early in the morning looking slovenly and I walk by a smartly dressed woman on her way to work.
I love that feeling of spying on the real world but also hated when I get spotted by someone who has not just rolled out of bed
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