Workaholic World

I'm in DC. I drove here in the rain, through the hills of eastern Ohio and Pennsylvania, the landscape that's most deeply imprinted on my psyche. It's where I grew up. It's beautiful, I love it, but in a melancholy way. It was a drive through rainy cold fall weather, which is the way it always is in my dreams and imagination.

Our nation's capitol: I like it but I don't love it. It's a definite improvement over STL, but it's not quite as lively and vibrant as you might expect of the capitol of the most powerful nation on earth. I could live here and be happy if New Orleans was not an option, but I do miss New Orleans terribly, still. You appreciate it more in these cities that are many times larger and yet don't have the energy and atmosphere and music.

I like my job so far, but I haven't really done any work yet, just gone to orientations and trainings. The people in the office seem happier and quirkier than I expected.

What I don't like, and will find hard to take, is the commute. I'm staying with an aunt and uncle in Woodbridge, VA. It's about 22 miles from the capitol building, which is less than the distance from my parent's house to the Gateway Arch in downtown STL. But it takes me a half an hour to drive five miles to a commuter train, which takes 50 minutes to get to Union Station, and then I walk for 15-20 minutes or get on the metro and ride to the next stop and then walk for 10 minutes. I don't mind the walking or the train ride, but I do mind the sitting at endless lights in the suburbs and the big chunk the whole process takes out of the day. I don't like being the tired-looking no-longer-young lady in the tan trenchcoat and black pumps on the commuter train.

But I am told that it would take even longer to drive. I didn't enjoy my single experience on the beltway and am not anxious to repeat it daily. How the hell do people do this everyday for months and years on end? Well, it goes without saying that if I moved here permanently, I'd live in the city, or at least somewhere close to the metro.

I think everyone here is a workaholic. I want to work, but I want to have fun when it's over, not sit on a train in my grey suit. The last train leaves at 7:00, so if I'm going to stay in the city after work, I'll have to find another way to get in and out. I'm told I have to get on the freeway and go up three exits to get to the closest outermost metro stop. It might be worth the freeway traffic on Fridays, at least.

I feel old as dirt and over the hill, with my ever-deepening forehead lines. Yet men are looking at me and flirting.

The one rule my uncle only half-jokingly made for staying with them is that only married people can have sex in the house. Who am I going to have sex with, anyway? But I would like to spark with someone, and get laid. There are good-looking guys at the job, but they all wear wedding rings.

Thank god I got a BMW so I can fit in with the other kids here.