the ride home

After dealing with assholes, wearing a hairnet, and cleaning toilets for an eight-hour midnight shift I'm twitchy. My nervous are shot and I'm tired of all the beige. I usually don't say goodbye to any of my co-workers. I chuck my hairnet on the parking lot pavement and I probably look like a heroin-addict gone cold turkey, but I'll tell you what, the ride home is euphoric.

I turn on CBC radio 2, which has a classical program on. Classical at 6:15 a.m. is exactly what the Doctor Donut ordered (yeah, third person, what are you going to do about it?). I need it, rather I yearn for classical after enduring the lousy pop hits - "today's greatest hits" my ass - that The Sensible Skinhead, or Zen Buddha rock out to all night while baking.

There is a usually a slight fog, but you can still see the stars, both dippers, when I drive home. All of the commuters around me are in a mad rush to get to work or to school, but I have no where to be except home to sleep, so I drive real slow, slow enough to annoy the other drivers, and I let all the assholes pass me by.