No, not for me. Unfortunately. Mom is officially semi-retired. She only works part time now, just to keep her brain active. And because we worked in the same building, I usually rode in with her. But now that her hours are less, I have to drive myself.
Have I mentioned before that I hate driving with the deep and fiery passion of a thousand suns? I do. I'm a pretty good driver; I respect the rules of the road, and other drivers, and stop at stop lines and use my blinker...anyway, I still hate it. Hate. It. Because its scary. Because all those other people on the road don't have respect and they are trying to hit me. If I can get someone else to drive, I do it. I'm comfortable behind the wheel as long as no one else is on the road! But now, I have to drive myself, and the driver's side window in the convertible doesn't close all the way (there's like a quarter inch gap) and everyone else is driving like there's no one else on the road and they aren't in control of a deadly vehicle and...I haaaate it.
But as I was driving home today, rocking out to my music, I remembered the one thing I like about driving. When I'm the only one in the car, which can only happen when I drive, the plot bunnies start bouncing around in my brain like they are on crack. The muse thinks this is the very best time to start playing around. Why? I have no idea. It's not like I'm able to write anything down. But there she goes, feeding me all sorts of ideas. Not like I need anymore ideas, though. I've got plenty of those to spare.
Getting on the page, however, is proving to be difficult.
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