A slow death

I spend a lot of time driving around for work.  In fact, I'd say driving is the single most important part of my job, and a huge chunk of my day is spent stuck in traffic.  What's nice is I get to listen to a lot of music while I drive.  Just connect the iPod to the tape deck and I'm off.  Except now my car radio died. 
 
It happened about two-and-a-half weeks ago.  So for two-and-a-half weeks I've been driving around L.A. in silence.  I am so sick and tired of myself I want to gnaw off my own face just because I figure the anguish will dull the pain of driving for an hour with no radio.  I am beginning to loathe myself.  When I shave in the morning, I'm no longer just looking in the mirror at my reflection; now I'm looking at the asshole I get to spend the day with.  Alone.  A day full awkward silences. 
 
I don't know how my friends do it.  God bless them for continuing to call and ask "wanna hang out?"