Most mornings I look forward to a spacious bus with lots of window-side seats to choose from, I look forward to one hour of zoning out and listening to Miley Cyrus telling me that we run things, things don’t run we. I’m relishing these commutes because soon I won’t have the luxury of just sitting back and watching traffic crawl. The year is almost through. I’m constantly struggling to remember things, hoping I’d actually convert plans into concrete action. I’m always wishing for the ability to breathe underwater for long periods of time.