Snow + suburbs = 3 hour tour

Okay, so I'm really trying to stay away from negative, venting only posts. Yes, it's my blog and I can vent if I want to, and I will, but all that venting only gets you so far, you know? Gotta try to stay positive, 'cause it surely seeps into your entire mindset and helps dictate how you feel about any given day.

And I promise I'll start all of this positivity as soon as I finish bitching about my ride into work today.

To set the scene - as was mentioned yesterday, Hubs was going to Windsor and would likely be there overnight. As such, he decided that he wanted to spend more time with me in the morning since he wouldn't see me at night (awww - love him), so he said he would drive me to Yorkdale and I could take the subway straight down to work. I told him honestly, it was okay, I don't mind the train and didn't want to hold him up, but he said it again and I went along. I like spending time with the man, so it wasn't much of a stretch to say yes.

So we pile in the car, in the midst of a very silly indeed snowstorm. HUGE flakes, very wet, making a mess out of everything but all in all not that debilitating or worth turning back for. We make our morning Tim's run, and my hand is instantly warmed by my large two milk one sweetner (this is how life changes - there are no Starbucks' here - yet - only Tim's - everywhere). We choose a route after a somewhat energetic discussion and we're off.

Right into traffic. Nothing but brake lights.

We head towards the 407 as Hubs decides he wants to try it today. Uh....yeah. Not so great. Brake lights there too. Nothing's moving. We're barely a quarter of the way there, and already an hour has gone past. I email the office at 8:11, warning them that there's no way in hell I'll make it in on time. Sigh.

We decide to get off the 407 and head down the 404/DVP to see if it's any better - mostly because we can use the High Occupancy Vehicle (HOV) lane. Score.

By now it's 8:40, and my bladder is full. To bursting. Tim's had entered the building and was attempting to find a way back out. Not cool.

I mention this fact to Hubs, and he asks if I want to pull over somewhere. I say no, let's keep going...always the martyr, I am. A few km's down the road we're still not going anywhere and I am in abject agony. You know that bladder pressure you get when you've been out drinking and even though you were smart enough to pee before you left the bar, you still get that pee pain on the cab ride home? You're fumbling for cash, willing to give the cabbie your purse, firstborn, anything to get the hell out of there and into a bathroom to end this constant ache?

That was me from 8:30 to 8:55 this morning. 25 minutes of bladder hell.

Sensing my great discomfort, Hubs pulls off the DVP so we can go to the Esso station he knows is nearby. Awesome. Relief is but a few stoplights away.

Enter brake lights. Again.

I can see the flippin red, white and blue of the Esso promised land, but we can't get there. So close, and yet so very, very far.

As all this is going down, snow is falling all around us, I'm freaking out about being late and the pee pain, and Hubs gets a frantic phone call from Sludge saying DeeDee doesn't want to go to school that morning and he had to do something. Poor Hubs - everyone around him is in crisis, and it's now his job to fix it.

He got mine solved as we finally pulled into the now sacred Esso. I run into the store, spot the universal sign for washroom (that silly little stick lady with a dress) and am delighted, nay overjoyed, to discover not one but TWO separate facilities. Oh joy, oh bliss.

Oh shit. They're both occupied. Sooooo not fair.

As we all know it hurts so much more when you're standing up, and by this point I'm doing the pee-pee dance right there in the middle of Esso while a bunch of folk waiting for THEIR morning Tim's stand in line. I was a walking advertisement for the adverse effects of Tim's and long car rides, but they were none the wiser.

Finally a door opens and sweet sweet relief is mine. That's pretty much all I have to say about that - I mean really, what else is there for me to tell you? I peed, it was great. I got back in the car.

It's now after 9, Hubs has filled up the tank while I emptied mine (har har) and convinced DeeDee to head off to school and we're off yet again. Just in time to get stuck in more traffic.

So we inch along, postulating every alternative route along the way, and I finally get dropped off at the subway station. I swipe my Metropass, head down the stairs, and there's the train. Score. I hop in, pull out my book and think maybe, just maybe, I'll make it to work for my 10am meeting. It's now 9:35. I dash off an update email to the office, and throw myself into my fantastic book.

Which I get to read a lot of, because the train doesn't move. Apparently there's a signal problem or something like that, so we sit there. Just sit there. This is the point in my day where I throw my hands up in the air (metaphorically speaking that is - people look at you funny if you all the sudden throw your hands up in public) and decide to just sit back and relax, I'll get there where I get there.

And the happy TTC chime tinkles, and we're off. Yes, we stopped in tunnels for a good period of time, and yes, it was 10:15 by the time I finally slid into our team meeting, but I had finally freakin made it. Three hours from door to desk. For the sake of everyone concerned, I think I'll stick to taking the train.

Poor Hubs - such a great, sweet, wonderful, good intentioned idea that went horribly wrong. And to put icing on a rather rotten cake, while we were stuck in traffic, he got a call from the Windsor office canceling the training he was heading there to conduct. Poor guy.

But good for me! I've got my Hubs beside me in bed tonight, and that's what matters. We got to have dinner together, watch Grey's Anatomy and just generally spend some good quality couple time.

And tomorrow morning, he'll drop me off at the bus stop. Lesson learned, lesson learned.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?