Just a few days later, my trip home was quite a different story. It seemed that every light was green as I came up to it and then, as if somehow sensing my approach, immediately turned red. Halfway home I came upon an inexplicable traffic standstill that seemed to take forever to crawl through. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I felt a weighty fatigue draped over my shoulders. I found myself grumbling and in a foul state of mind that lingered through the rest of the night.
As I was getting ready for bed I began to wonder how it is possible that saving a few minutes on my trip home holds the power to hijack my spirit for an entire evening. It is not like I have to endure an hour-long commute. I live just a few miles away from where I work. Is my makeup so feeble, so threadbare that even the slightest delay in getting home can completely sour my disposition? What's next? Another night lost to brooding and frustration because I burn my supper or skin my knee or get a mosquito bite or the wind is blowing out of the west?
