So I was sitting at the computer, noticing that I hadn't batted out an update in several days, and I asked myself: "Why isn't my life more interesting?" Other than the fact that I'm tethered to many duties, sometimes simultaneously, I came to realize this: I spend a lot of time driving back and forth to work. A lot of time.

Circumstances conspired this week to force me to spend more than two hours on my 35-mile drive home Wednesday night. I left work at 6 p.m. with all good intentions of getting home about 45 minutes later to participate in trick-or-treat festivites. But alas, an 18-wheeler was stalled in the absolute worst possible square yard in all of the greater metropolitan area in which to stall. Being trapped in the left lane, I couldn't even contemplate an alternate route.

I could, however, contemplate the utter futility of a traffic jam. I could do nothing. It's like being trapped in a vacuum. I could do nothing but sit, wait, take my foot off the brake and accelerate to 2 mph every once in a while. Otherwise, nothing. Except wonder why there was nothing more interesting going on in my life than sitting in a traffic jam.

So, of course, I missed trick-or-treating. The kids were already in bed by the time I got home. So much for good intentions.