n. "A person whose round trip to work exceeds a hundred miles each day." --Joel Garreau, "Edge City", page 458
     Sometimes fate throws you a loop. My new job has its own parking lot, a motivated, organized, polite staff, intelligent policies and by-laws, a well-maintained building, and a beautiful building in up-hill Lake Forest. I live in West Los Angeles, about 60.9 miles away (as the Google flies).
     I'll let that sink in.
     90 minutes, each way, I figure. Add in 7.5 hours' sleep and there's scarcely time to play.
     I will move--once the benefits kick in and I get a feel for my finances. As is, I figure the money I traded up to from my last job is just about burned away in my car's engine. I'm hanging in there. Any idea of a healthy breakfast that can be made at home and eaten in a car? I am a good cook, mostly.
edit: Cruise Control is impossible on the 405, in case the song gives you ideas.

"Could it be? / Yes it could. / Something's coming, something good. / If I can wait. / Something's coming. / I don't know what it is, / but it is / gonna be Great!" --"Something's Coming", West Side Story

Big news--the second-biggest--I have a new job! It's with a respectable world-class firm in Lake Forest with a whole pack of respectable people and a comprehensive benefits package and a lovely salary increase--far more than I ever made at the job that cut my salary in mid-September and my hours two weeks back. What most people couldn't tell you is that I have been on a scramble for new work since mid September, and on a balls-to-the-wall blitz since mid-April, to get it--or, more generally, anything that fits the description above. This included daily web searches and sends, answering every email that crossed my screen, bombarding the Big Three (and the Other Three) with searches and emails of their own, and taking every strange call as quickly as possible. On top of full-time work, it was a catharsis and a pressure relief valve. When my hours were cut, it was a lifeline to a better life.
"Come in something. / Come on in / Don't be shy. / Pull up a chair." --ibid
     The feedback ranged from the confusing to the chaotic to the sublimely tempting--the Big Three were coy, the recruiters eager, and I swear I only saw two in-person interviews among them all. No matter--I pressed on until I got an offer I could accept with honor and, yes, a touch of glee.
     Now? Relief. Satisfaction. My life continues with minimal trouble, and my cash flow can get my finances cleared. I can bid farewell to a whimsical, clueless man and his hard-working, narrow-view co-worker, and their despairing bookkeeper. I can leave their flailing enterprise to its destiny, and pursue my own. I will get my own cubicle. I will get my own parking space! Santa Monica's asinine parking plan, street sweepers and extortionate parking tickets will never be an inconvenience again.
     And I am just as happy as before--great girlfriend, friends in all boroughs, nice car, great computer, comfortable apartment--but the lows are less low, and the bills less weighty.
     I will move if the commute drives me nuts, but not before--I bet I can endure for this!