Now that I drive on the interstate to and from work, I suddenly care about traffic reports. I can't wait for them to come on the radio and when they do, I strain to hear my highway get mentioned.
It's not that it's telling me anything I didn't know. When I'm still a mile from work 15 minutes after I leave, I'm fully aware that there are delays on 94E.
It's not that they can do anything about it. That helicopter has yet to swoop down and pick me up like Frodo Baggins and his faithful Kia, Sam, coming back from Mt. Work.
What really makes me feel good is that they are commiserating with me. They are acknowledging that I am backed up in traffic and facing major delays as an accident is blocking the left lane and the end of a Brewer game is blocking the right. As they announce delays, I sneer grimly like a crusty old seaman preparing for another Nor'easter. Whatever the gods of traffic (Saturn? Mercury?) are brewing up, I can take it like a man.
And that is what makes life satisfying.