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Part of the commute is the five-minute driveway stare, contemplating every life decision, before deciding to be a grown-up and start the drive to work.
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Nothing we love more than mewning traffic on the way to work. Purrfect start with bumper-to-bumper hissterics, red-light catnaps, and a GPS recatculating. Super fun. Five slow blinks, one tail flick.
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Running very late panic mode: keys jingling, coffee sloshing, GPS recatculating, heart doing zoomies. If only cars hit light-speed or teleportation existed. One blink, desk chair. Until then: inhale, drive, hope.
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