Given this state of affairs, it's probably not good for my mental health to be listening to a new travel audiobook in the car. Travel memoirs tend to spark my dissatisfaction with the banal work life, and often leave me feeling that I'm living a "life of quiet desperation."
Fortunately, The Sex Lives of Cannibals by J. Maarten Troost is about a place so bleak, so inhospitable, so ridden with giant cockroaches, that I'm actually happy to be in an air-conditioned mega coffee house, instead. The book reminds me (with dry British wit) how boring, uncomfortable, and lonely some exotic places can be. And I just have to evoke memories of miserable guest houses across two continents on my extended honeymoon with La Roleurette to show me how nice it is to be home.