Grumble

I live in Southern Marin.  My daughter spent this week in a camp in Northern Marin.  As I have the past few days, I spent three hours today driving her to camp and picking her up from camp (a large part of which time was just spent sitting in traffic).  That didn’t even include the 45 minutes I spent these same days driving my son to camp and picking him up from camp.  Today, though, I got a new wrinkle on this endless journey up and down Highway 101.

My husband is out of town on business. He was going to leave his car out of town, since he has to be back there Monday, and make a round-trip train ride home for the weekend.  I agreed to pick him up at the train station, which is about a 30 minute drive from here.

At the last moment, my husband called to tell me that a colleague who was also heading back here had kindly agreed to drive him.  The plan was for her to drop him at a ferry plaza near my house.  That’s good, I thought.

About 20 minutes later my husband called me again.  He had suddenly figured out that, since his colleague lives in North Marin, dropping him at the ferry plaza would take her 45 minutes out of her way.  So, now I’m driving back up to North Marin for the 3rd time today.

I don’t know why this irritates me so much.  I didn’t have a problem with making a 30 minute drive to the East Bay, but I’m royally tweaked at making a 30 minute drive to the North Bay.  I guess that it’s because I’ve had a hell of a time getting anything done this week, since I’ve been spending four hours a day in the car.  If I were a trucker or bus driver getting paid for that time — if that time was my work time — it would be different.  This however, has been time sucked away from everything else I do, and to make the same trek again, not even a different trek, but that same trek, just irks me.

Grumble, grumble, grumble, grumble.

Okay, I feel better now.  Thank you for listening.