Shut Up and Drive

I like my job. Most of the time. But lately things are getting a little ridiculous. I've lost count of how many times I've had to drive 3+ hours and overnight in some cruddy town in New York. I'm getting my oil changed every month instead of every three because the miles just rack up. Yes, I get reimbursed, but not sufficiently enough. Sometimes I spend more time in my car than I do at any given job. And since I smoke, it's hell on my lungs, because what do I do when I drive? I smoke. And then I smoke another. And another. And if I'm stuck in traffic, I yell and curse and smoke some more. For instance, tonight I have to drive to drive up to Long Island and overnight to work a job tomorrow that will probably be nothing less than an absolute clusterfuck, and then fight New York and New Jersey traffic on a Friday afternoon just to get home.

Do not get me wrong, I am thankful that I even have a job. But I do bitch and complain, just like anyone else. Some days I want to leave my equipment on the side of the road in some Godforsaken town a million miles away, other days are a total cakewalk and I'm reminded of why I do what I do and the fact that I love it.