Way back, long ago, like two whole years (which counts as the Before Times), I had a foolish notion. I watched my daughter drive for Lyft part time, and I thought, hey, I could do that. I actually seriously considered doing it. Some desperate self-preserving impulse prevailed, and I never actually signed up to try. I'm so glad I didn't do it. It turns out that I would not have been able to do it, for multiple reasons. Among the strikes against me were that driving in Denver, especially on narrow, crowded streets, stresses me out. I get panicky when I'm on unfamiliar routes, if lanes suddenly disappear or exits are hard to access, or if parking is scarce. And, as it turns out, driving is actually exhausting.
My foster daughter has been gone for four weeks. Her real mom had a medical procedure done, and she needed someone to stay with her and help out. She came home this evening, and it was my turn to make the airport run to get her. The traffic wasn't bad, but it is a solid hour each way going the non-interstate route I chose. By the time I arrived at the kids' house to drop her off, my right ankle was so sore from being held in one position that I was afraid it wouldn't support me. I've spent the remaining time since coming home limping around like I'm old and broken, telling any cat within earshot how sore and tired I am. This brings into high-def clarity how glad I am I never tried to drive Lyft, even for a minute.
I didn't stay long at the kids' place. I got a few cuddles, a half a smile, and two extended sharts rumbling against my arm as I held the baby. I will get more time tomorrow when they come over for brunch. I did steal the photos my daughter took earlier today, of a very happy little girl. She posted them online already, but they were too good not to share a little more widely.
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