Brain Pilot

"As you're heading out tomorrow morning, be sure to bundle up. Although we're looking at temperatures in the 30's, the windchill will be far below that...," a perky blonde on The Weather Channel warned me last night.

After fighting the traffic for weeks, I decided to brave the metro again for my morning commute. I did it once before and it took me almost 2 hours to get to work, between walking, taking a bus some parts and the train other parts.

However, driving home the 25 miles from my office last week also took 2 hours. I've realized, along with my boyfriend, that Crazy Bad Traffic = Crazy Bad Me.

The metro station nearest me is 1.3 miles. Not toooooo far, right? Last time, I took the bus there. This time, what's a little exercise? So, last night, being the especially over prepared person that I usually am, I got ready.

Ipod, check.

Warm fuzzy turtleneck sweater, check.

Sneakers and real socks, check.

Heels, laptop, lunch and other miscellaneous work items in my tote, check.

2 gloves, although mismatched (this was the best I could do, one black and one blue, but hey, for a Southern Girl transplant, I was impressed with myself), check.

Alarm set for 6am, check.

Yes, 6am. Although I'm not required to make an appearance at my day job until 8:30 or 9, I calculated that I would have to leave my house at 7am to make this walking/metro-ing trek and still be at work on time. But, at least I wouldn't be driving.

At promptly 7am this morning, I tied on a scarf, snapped on my coat, slipped on my sneakers and gave myself a little pat on the back for being on time. I snapped up (ok, lugged up) my 10lb tote (remember... that laptop) and was out the door.

Brr! Windy. But, that's ok. I am getting exercise! I am listening to music! I am not driving! I can soon sit back, relax, and read my book.

But, after a half mile, I stopped dead in my tracks. Children, holding their parents' gloved hands, brushed past me on their way to the elementary school near my house. People driving by stared at me as I simply stood there looking straight ahead.

I have a meeting at 9am. 1 block from my house.

I'd intentionally scheduled it at 9am, so I could have the meeting and then drive to work, without having to go back and forth twice in one day.

As I begrudgingly turned around and walked back home, fresh coffee in hand, I asked, "God, can't I just be a super human, just sometimes?" This year, I'm asking Santa for a Brain Pilot, because my palms are always so busy getting myself ready, that my brain takes a nap and forgets.