I’ve decided that, As the MA’d Goddess, I should have a chauffeur. In recent weeks, the hubby and I have been carpooling for our 30-minute (one way) commute. I rearranged my work schedule to fit his cardiac rehab appointments. We’re conserving fuel (and cash) and reducing our carbon footprint. Yeah for us!
First, I’ve had to give up some of my independence. Most husbands don’t have a lot of patience for changes in the scheduled stops. For my husband, with his lingering fatigue, running errands isn’t on the list of things to do. Second, when I do get to make the occasion solo trip (see running errands above), I’m annoyed when I have to readjust the seat and the mirrors, and tune the radio back to my favorite station.
Yet, what I’ve gained almost makes up for the loss of autonomy and small irritations– an extra, stress free hour each day while he drives and I sit back to enjoy the ride. I’ve been able to (finally) read my favorite magazines that have been languishing in stacks all over the house. I can do my nails or finish my face. Mostly, I just recline the seat, close my eyes and catch an extra 30 minutes of restful thought wanderings. All of this is much better than starting the day in a full out middle-aged sweat from running a dead heat to get myself pulled together and get to work on time.
Cardiac rehab ended a week ago. The car is all mine again. I’ve decided I now want a chauffeured Jag. Honestly, what I’d really like is one of those traveling throne thingys like Cleopatra’s, with four buff and burley guys to tote me around. Of course that would mean I have nothing more pressing to do than sit on my ample back side hanging out poolside at the palace with buff and burley guys at my beck and call.
Okay, that dream might be a long shot, and even the chauffeured Jag may be a bit far off in my future, but I am definitely prepared. I’ve got my personalized license plate all picked out –
YD ASS
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