Commuting. I already drive an 18-wheeler for work. During the week, my “commute” is little more than climbing out of bed, throwing some clothes on, flopping into my driver’s seat and taking off (after performing a pre-trip inspection). Which, on its own, isn’t too bad, I guess. Sort of a blue-collar work-from-home arrangement.

But on Monday mornings and Friday nights, I have to get from my house, to the place where I actually park my truck, because the truck won’t fit in my neighborhood. And it’s against company policy for me to bring the truck home anyway.

That commute is anywhere from 40 minutes to over an hour, depending on traffic. And I have to take extra time to bring along whatever food and clothing I’ll need for the week, or the weekend, which is annoying in its own right.

There have been weekends where I just don’t go to my house, at all, just save that extra couple hours to relax instead. But I end up giving myself cabin fever doing that, so it’s a rare occurrence.

Capping off is a way to say conclusion. Like finishing off, wrapping up, things like that. Jitters are a kind of nervous feeling.

First time was happenstance, when I was 15. I was kinda nervous about starting high school the following week; the anxiety of doing so in a new town wasn’t helping anything. I was running errands with my mom one day, we’d capped off the afternoon by picking my sister up from marching band practice. She’d brought this other girl along, having offered her a ride home. I don’t really remember the specifics about the trip, just ‘ooh, meeting a new person, let’s start the “new place” jitters early’. I think this girl and my sister were chatting something vaguely along the lines of coming over for French horn lessons. I don’t remember the specifics.

Two years later though, I’d gotten into theatre. Day 1 of rehearsals for a play I was cast in, there she was again. The roles we were playing didn’t interact much on stage, so when I wasn’t playing my part, I got to spend a lot of time in the wings. Watching her, being enamored with her performance, gradually realizing I was catching feelings for her.

I made a move, eventually, we went out for a while, it was great while it lasted. But, ultimately, we made better friends than lovers. We’re still friends, or at least friendly, to this day though.

I live in an 18-wheeler for most of the week; I keep a mini-fridge behind my passenger seat. It’s mostly there for drinks, but I save some shelf space for sandwich supplies. Deli meats, cheeses, etc., plus some occasional treats in the freezer. I generally just slap a sandwich together, maybe pop it in the toaster oven for a bit, and then I’m off again.

My microwave gets some occasional action, and every now and then I’ll use my coffee maker to boil some ramen. I’m also thinking about hooking up a crockpot for this winter, have soups or stews going while I’m driving all day. Just depends on what food I bring onto the truck; convenience store and vending machine prices hurt my wallet, so I try to stay away from those.

I’ve yet to meet anyone who’s heard Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra, who has also seen Eurotrip.

John Scalzi’s Old Man’s War book series. Apparently it’s been optioned for 15+ years now, but nobody’s actually gotten around to making the damned thing yet.

If it’s important, they’ll either immediately call a second time, or they’ll leave a message. I only pick up the phone for my mom.