The Rolling Commute

When I lived in Boston with my daughter and two housemates, they had a two, three and four block commute. I would get in my car and drive 45 minutes to an hour out of the city, depending on traffic. The beautiful old New England houses along Route 117, the fields of purple leifstreif in the summer, the red leaves in the fall, and the snow swept fields made up for some of the wear and tear.

When I was first in Switzerland it was a 20 minute drive, often in a car pool and again the scenery was beautiful as we drove up and down the mountain roads.

In Geneva I either jumped a bus for four stops or walked twenty minutes by a field with horses and several alphabet agencies of the UN.

In Argelès I walk across the room and in Geneva I either work in my room, in the winter garden or down in the basement office.

However, this morning I reduced my commute to the shortest in the world. I woke early ready to tackle the day. The sun was planning to sleep in for at least another two hours. I rolled over and picked up the laptop. A roll-over commute has to be the world’s shortest.