rolling green fields & other stereotypical country crap like that
I got PAID!
Paychecks are beautiful things.
So everyone I know here seems to think I hate driving. (Granted, I really only hang out with about three people here, but that's beside the point.) It surprises me every time they mention this to me, because I love driving. I really, honestly do.
However.
I hate city driving. And that's almost all I ever do in this state. Stop and go, red traffic lights every other block, and idiots cutting me off because they just suddenly realized they have to turn somewhere and they're in the wrong lane. Or the idiots going too slow in front of me and I can't pass 'em.
No, no, no. I like driving on county roads, gravel roads that have been tarred so they're compacted and semi-paved, where you might run into two or three cars over the span of a half-hour, and you're surrounded by the ubiquitous farm houses and cornfields.
Also, you can turn the radio up really high, have the windows wide open, and sing along at the top of your lungs without even disturbing a cow. Or have the guy on a motorcycle in the lane next to you give you an odd look.
Oh, and I have discovered a very important fact. Sinks are built for short people. I don't know how you tall people deal with it, having to lean over the things to wash your hands and such. I put on two-inch heels and suddenly I can barely reach down to the faucet. Whoever standardized sink heights (if anybody actually did such a thing) must've been five feet tall. Yeah.
Paychecks are beautiful things.
So everyone I know here seems to think I hate driving. (Granted, I really only hang out with about three people here, but that's beside the point.) It surprises me every time they mention this to me, because I love driving. I really, honestly do.
However.
I hate city driving. And that's almost all I ever do in this state. Stop and go, red traffic lights every other block, and idiots cutting me off because they just suddenly realized they have to turn somewhere and they're in the wrong lane. Or the idiots going too slow in front of me and I can't pass 'em.
No, no, no. I like driving on county roads, gravel roads that have been tarred so they're compacted and semi-paved, where you might run into two or three cars over the span of a half-hour, and you're surrounded by the ubiquitous farm houses and cornfields.
Also, you can turn the radio up really high, have the windows wide open, and sing along at the top of your lungs without even disturbing a cow. Or have the guy on a motorcycle in the lane next to you give you an odd look.
Oh, and I have discovered a very important fact. Sinks are built for short people. I don't know how you tall people deal with it, having to lean over the things to wash your hands and such. I put on two-inch heels and suddenly I can barely reach down to the faucet. Whoever standardized sink heights (if anybody actually did such a thing) must've been five feet tall. Yeah.