I’m currently 37 miles from my first appointment in Boston. At the moment Waze tells me it will take me 69 minutes to reach my destination. In reality it’ll be closer to 90 minutes because it makes little sense to arrive at an appointment 90 minutes early, but it’s unacceptable to arrive 5 minutes late. Such is the mental math of a commuter to Boston. If there’s a benefit to my career it’s not having to do this every day. No such mental math occurs in a trip to Maine or Vermont. But Boston, well, that’s a different story. I choose to avoid peak traffic times whenever possible. Today it’s not possible.

“… the few that make it to the top of their ambition through a thousand indignities realize at the end it’s only for an inscription on their tombstone” – Seneca

As I write the predicted commute has inched up another ten minutes. Best to get on my way soon… but then I hear a couple of hot air balloons flying nearby and walked out to see where they’re heading. They often land on our street because the power lines are underground here. But it looks like they’re heading to another neighborhood this time. The brief interruption was welcome as it broke my focus on incremental time units for a 37 mile drive. It’s funny what we focus on, and how unimportant most of it turns out to be in the end. But we also have means to an end to consider, and so it’s time to get moving once again.