Every day I have at least a half hour commute. It can stretch to an hour and a half if the weather is bad and every single senior citizen in the city decides to break out the Caddy for senior’s day at the pharmacy.
Every day I listen to the radio. I like the news, weather and traffic updates. I like to keep current in case I need to make small talk. Small talk is highly under-rated when it comes to my career, but that’s another blog for another time.
My car is akin to a superbowl dressing room in that I use it to mentally prepare for my day. On the way home, it’s a decompression chamber. I turn up my music and I sing my heart out all the way home (at this point in the day I have no patience for advertisements and just play my iPhone).
The music is so loud that I can’t even hear myself swear or honk the horn at idiot drivers. The decibal level is very, very, theraputic.
What?! Did you say something?
Anyway, the point of this whole rant is that morning radio is more annoying than having to talk to someone who has spit accumulating in the corners of their mouth.
My typical morning commute involves switching between 5 and 7 different stations. There is always one dj who has a forced laugh. None worse than the Roz of Roz and Mocha. It makes me want to stick my tongue into an electrical outlet and call it lights out.
During the morning commute, the less talk the better. Unless I’ve turned the dial to talk radio, or there is a breaking news story, please, for the love of all that’s holy, just let the music play.