Thursday's commute from work came in at an earth-shattering 1 hour and 45 minutes--plus. By the time I got home (at 7:00 p.m.), I was less than thrilled with the state of the cruel and heartless universe, surely a fickle creature whose instincts were less than trustworthy.
Jared, sensing my grumpiness (and having received numerous texts along the lines of "Traffic. Boo." and "I can't even idle. I have to brake, I'm going so slow."), suggested a quick run. After some token whining, I agreed and we headed out the door.
A quick and easy 3 miles later, and I'd come around. The universe, while still fickle, is not against me. It does not hate me. It's actually been pretty good to me. Just not from 5:15 to 7:00 p.m. on Tuesday.
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