I have a fairly long commute to work, relatively--that is. I've queued up with the day-trippers before at the Bahnhof in the next larger town making the diurnal run to Frankfurt or so, but I don't im
agine that many of my neighborhoods wouldn't find such a daily drive off-putting. On the way there in the mornings, I usually have enough to keep me occupied, ticking off a mental list of what I need to accomplish at work and worrying a bit about my endemic tardiness, so it might be expected that I wouldn't recall every spectacular and mundane detail of the trip. On the way home, however, I usually experience rather grave omissions in my route. Quite suddenly, I'll find myself pulling into my usual parking spot, with absolutely no recollection of the half-dozen villages I passed along the way. It's a bit worrisome, and some days I have taken to counting the seconds it takes to cross the main thoroughfare of a village or ticking off certain landmarks--that overpass with the merge lane that makes me uncomfortable, that bit of graffiti, that photovoltaic plant that's blinding upon approach on sunny days, the teepee in the field by the gothic monestary, and so on. Despite all these mneumonics, I still wind up transported to my doorstep. I seriously doubt that I discover a wormhole along this stretch of county road, or that something traumatic (though this is what scares me, the thought that I was a rude, zombie driver or caused an accident that I can't remember) happens in Unterrupertshausenburgbergbachtaldorf that causes me to daily suppress that memory. Maybe I have developed a mechanism to cope with a long commute.
agine that many of my neighborhoods wouldn't find such a daily drive off-putting. On the way there in the mornings, I usually have enough to keep me occupied, ticking off a mental list of what I need to accomplish at work and worrying a bit about my endemic tardiness, so it might be expected that I wouldn't recall every spectacular and mundane detail of the trip. On the way home, however, I usually experience rather grave omissions in my route. Quite suddenly, I'll find myself pulling into my usual parking spot, with absolutely no recollection of the half-dozen villages I passed along the way. It's a bit worrisome, and some days I have taken to counting the seconds it takes to cross the main thoroughfare of a village or ticking off certain landmarks--that overpass with the merge lane that makes me uncomfortable, that bit of graffiti, that photovoltaic plant that's blinding upon approach on sunny days, the teepee in the field by the gothic monestary, and so on. Despite all these mneumonics, I still wind up transported to my doorstep. I seriously doubt that I discover a wormhole along this stretch of county road, or that something traumatic (though this is what scares me, the thought that I was a rude, zombie driver or caused an accident that I can't remember) happens in Unterrupertshausenburgbergbachtaldorf that causes me to daily suppress that memory. Maybe I have developed a mechanism to cope with a long commute.
