The standard work week is forty hours. Not that there aren't plenty of people who clock fifty, sixty or even more. I chatted with a chef who hadn't taken a day off in over a year. And of course there are stay at home mothers whose ON mode is indistinguishable from their OFF. I guess off comes when the kids are asleep and the house is clean. But when does that ever happen? 

 

Still for some employees there is yet another consideration above the time in the office. Commuting. If the job you happen to land is an hour or two from your door, you have to weigh the increased commitment. When you sign on for the one far away, it effectively balloons your work day by fifty per cent. No small consideration even if you have gorgeous scenery and a Prius. 

 

Twelve years ago there was a period when Benjamin attended a school thirty minutes away, which sentenced me to four trips daily. I started out grumbling, if only because it meant there were three of us along for the ride, me and the twins. But they turned out to be cheerful about it, and it was sustainable. For three years. 

 

I would rather not calculate how much of my life I spent in traffic. It felt like the best choice at the time.  Benjamin needed to get there to benefit from teachers who played to his strong suits. So I suited up and took him. 

 

There are other goals that require a hefty willingness to schlep. Arriving at the relationship you aspire to entails rubber on the road. But what I hear from those couples who have moored at the safe harbor of complete trust, the scenery is gorgeous. 

 

Love,

Lori