Sunday, May 31, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
i have a story
This story is about how Lauri is retarded and impatient, but not as retarded as the roads in Atlanta. It is also about how her bladder is smaller than a thimble.
I made one wrong turn on the way home from taking my cousin to the airport. Although I realized my mistake within 6 blocks, the entire ordeal took over a half-hour to reverse, though it was about 7pm, which I quickly discovered is NOT - contrary to logic - too late to be stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic! Reasons for the wrong turn include the streets in Atlanta all looking the same, and none of them proceeding in any one direction for longer than 3 blocks. Instead, they loop and meander in convoluted knots, through thickly forested land, intersecting with themselves (it's true!), and twisting into an unnavigable maze. Plus, some street names are SO GOOD that they use just one for an entire neighborhood! For example, a whole region of the city exists with "Peachtree" in the name. ("Dudes... Peachtree sounds so good in front of 'Road,' let's stick it in front of 'Terrace' and 'Circle,' too! Yeah, and we should call this one here 'Peachtree Drive.' Oooh! We haven't used 'Court' yet... but we'd better identify it with a 'West' so people don't get confused...." I seriously believe that that was an actual quote by some stoned city planner decades ago who was at the time obsessed with Steve Miller Band.) Also, sometimes one street will have four different names within a half-mile. No joke. (You only thought you turned on DeKalb Industrial. Silly goose, that was a block ago! You're on Arcadia now. But only for another four seconds... after that bridge, it's Sam's Crossing. Pay attention!) It truly helps that there is a church on every corner, and they all look exactly the same! Such an exciting place to live! Really keeps you on your toes!
Ok, back to the story. I had also just (an hour before) consumed two cups of coffee, and despite making a visit to the loo right before getting into my car, was in a stupid amount of pain, that special kind of discomfort from having to pee so badly the whites of your eyes are beginning to jaundice. (Side Note: I am beginning to think that instead of having a tiny shrunken bladder, my problem is that my kidneys are secretly addicted to cocaine and filter my blood super! alarmingly! brilliantly! fast, so that my bladder has to constantly run to keep up. That seems like the more reasonable explanation.)
After these events occured, I have realized that other than being in a state of acute hunger with a puzzlingly rapid onset, as per usual, when my blood sugar drops below the "give-the-bitch-a-string-cheese-or-risk-having-your-eyes-clawed-out" status, I am also ridiculously and unforgivably impatient when I'm dying for the bathroom. No matter how good my iPod is shuffling those indie hits, or how beautiful the sky is, or how lovely the breeze feels floating through that sunroof, my rage knows no bounds at times like these.
That being said, you can imagine that it might be understandable for one to SCREAM IN THE CAR AT THE TOP OF ONE'S LUNGS when one is trapped in a bucket seat inside twelve square-feet of metal, stuck on the same block for twenty minutes with a full bladder. Because really, what else is there to do?
In sum... I have no sense of direction. Atlanta's roads are fucking impossible. And my kidneys are hooked on crack. The end!
I made one wrong turn on the way home from taking my cousin to the airport. Although I realized my mistake within 6 blocks, the entire ordeal took over a half-hour to reverse, though it was about 7pm, which I quickly discovered is NOT - contrary to logic - too late to be stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic! Reasons for the wrong turn include the streets in Atlanta all looking the same, and none of them proceeding in any one direction for longer than 3 blocks. Instead, they loop and meander in convoluted knots, through thickly forested land, intersecting with themselves (it's true!), and twisting into an unnavigable maze. Plus, some street names are SO GOOD that they use just one for an entire neighborhood! For example, a whole region of the city exists with "Peachtree" in the name. ("Dudes... Peachtree sounds so good in front of 'Road,' let's stick it in front of 'Terrace' and 'Circle,' too! Yeah, and we should call this one here 'Peachtree Drive.' Oooh! We haven't used 'Court' yet... but we'd better identify it with a 'West' so people don't get confused...." I seriously believe that that was an actual quote by some stoned city planner decades ago who was at the time obsessed with Steve Miller Band.) Also, sometimes one street will have four different names within a half-mile. No joke. (You only thought you turned on DeKalb Industrial. Silly goose, that was a block ago! You're on Arcadia now. But only for another four seconds... after that bridge, it's Sam's Crossing. Pay attention!) It truly helps that there is a church on every corner, and they all look exactly the same! Such an exciting place to live! Really keeps you on your toes!
Ok, back to the story. I had also just (an hour before) consumed two cups of coffee, and despite making a visit to the loo right before getting into my car, was in a stupid amount of pain, that special kind of discomfort from having to pee so badly the whites of your eyes are beginning to jaundice. (Side Note: I am beginning to think that instead of having a tiny shrunken bladder, my problem is that my kidneys are secretly addicted to cocaine and filter my blood super! alarmingly! brilliantly! fast, so that my bladder has to constantly run to keep up. That seems like the more reasonable explanation.)
After these events occured, I have realized that other than being in a state of acute hunger with a puzzlingly rapid onset, as per usual, when my blood sugar drops below the "give-the-bitch-a-string-cheese-or-risk-having-your-eyes-clawed-out" status, I am also ridiculously and unforgivably impatient when I'm dying for the bathroom. No matter how good my iPod is shuffling those indie hits, or how beautiful the sky is, or how lovely the breeze feels floating through that sunroof, my rage knows no bounds at times like these.
That being said, you can imagine that it might be understandable for one to SCREAM IN THE CAR AT THE TOP OF ONE'S LUNGS when one is trapped in a bucket seat inside twelve square-feet of metal, stuck on the same block for twenty minutes with a full bladder. Because really, what else is there to do?
In sum... I have no sense of direction. Atlanta's roads are fucking impossible. And my kidneys are hooked on crack. The end!
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
this is how i roll
For the first time since I was 12, last week I went roller-skating. ROLLER-SKATING! And it was a freaking blast. I felt all awkward and unstable at first, but damn, I had fun.
I never knew about the roller skating culture that exists here, but found out quick that it's pretty popular with the young black crowd. It was quite entertaining to watch the participating population: picture gangsta-dressed black men doing twirls to hip-hop music, and hanging onto one another while skating in tandem. With other dudes. Very masculine-looking, early-20-something, dudes. Some people had some crazy awesome moves, and I was very impressed.
What might be even more impressive is that I went fishing over the Memorial Day weekend. (Ok, I won't kid myself. At most, it's as impressive, but probably not even that.) The reason that's a big deal is that I haven't done so since I was about 7 years old. I also caught two whole fish, big enough to eat! Which I did, later that night! All rolled in cornmeal and fried up, along with homemade hushpuppies. The reason THAT'S a big deal is because the catching part of this scenario was a first. I'm pretty sure I've never caught anything with a line connected to a pole. Which is probably why I hated fishing when I was a kid. There was too much sitting around and waiting for something to happen. It was boring. Even as an adult, between the reeling in of something squirmy biting my line, I got pretty bored of the whole experience pretty fast. And also, I had an overpowering sense of guilt for all the harm to living creatures I was involved in. I couldn't help but apologize to the tiny little fish I ended up throwing back. ("I'm sorry about your lip, little guy. And I'm sorry for making you late for something.") I apologized to the earthworm I mercilessly stabbed in three places while threading its long body on my hook. God, I'm a wuss.
So, conclusion: I am just as ADD as I was as a 7-year-old (and way more squeamish), but my fishing skills have somehow improved. Maybe the worms were just super juicy and the fish were desperate and nearly starving to death.
I ALSO rode a 4-wheeler for the first time since childhood. All in all, I've had a pretty exciting, getting-in-touch-with-my-inner-child week. One event that did not contribute to those nostalgic feelings took place on Sunday, when I shot an AK-47 at some inanimate plastic targets. What can I say? When you're in the dirty south, hanging out with native southerners who have an array of firearms, and when you've have had several beers under the Hot-lanta sun, shooting an AK-47 just sort of... follows. Like buying an over-priced popcorn at the movies. Or doing a keg-stand at a college party.
And, now I can cross off "shoot an automatic assault rifle" from my list of things to do before I die.
I never knew about the roller skating culture that exists here, but found out quick that it's pretty popular with the young black crowd. It was quite entertaining to watch the participating population: picture gangsta-dressed black men doing twirls to hip-hop music, and hanging onto one another while skating in tandem. With other dudes. Very masculine-looking, early-20-something, dudes. Some people had some crazy awesome moves, and I was very impressed.
What might be even more impressive is that I went fishing over the Memorial Day weekend. (Ok, I won't kid myself. At most, it's as impressive, but probably not even that.) The reason that's a big deal is that I haven't done so since I was about 7 years old. I also caught two whole fish, big enough to eat! Which I did, later that night! All rolled in cornmeal and fried up, along with homemade hushpuppies. The reason THAT'S a big deal is because the catching part of this scenario was a first. I'm pretty sure I've never caught anything with a line connected to a pole. Which is probably why I hated fishing when I was a kid. There was too much sitting around and waiting for something to happen. It was boring. Even as an adult, between the reeling in of something squirmy biting my line, I got pretty bored of the whole experience pretty fast. And also, I had an overpowering sense of guilt for all the harm to living creatures I was involved in. I couldn't help but apologize to the tiny little fish I ended up throwing back. ("I'm sorry about your lip, little guy. And I'm sorry for making you late for something.") I apologized to the earthworm I mercilessly stabbed in three places while threading its long body on my hook. God, I'm a wuss.
So, conclusion: I am just as ADD as I was as a 7-year-old (and way more squeamish), but my fishing skills have somehow improved. Maybe the worms were just super juicy and the fish were desperate and nearly starving to death.
I ALSO rode a 4-wheeler for the first time since childhood. All in all, I've had a pretty exciting, getting-in-touch-with-my-inner-child week. One event that did not contribute to those nostalgic feelings took place on Sunday, when I shot an AK-47 at some inanimate plastic targets. What can I say? When you're in the dirty south, hanging out with native southerners who have an array of firearms, and when you've have had several beers under the Hot-lanta sun, shooting an AK-47 just sort of... follows. Like buying an over-priced popcorn at the movies. Or doing a keg-stand at a college party.
And, now I can cross off "shoot an automatic assault rifle" from my list of things to do before I die.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
lunch of champions
This afternoon, I had a bowl of black bean soup, some poor-man's sushi (slices of tofu rolled up in a nori sheet and dipped in soy sauce), and a mini-doughnut from Dancing Goats Cafe, of course along with a tasty cuppa joe.
I dunno if it was the seaweed or the fluffy bite of coffee-cake-like deliciousness in that do-nut, but I'm in a great mood.
I dunno if it was the seaweed or the fluffy bite of coffee-cake-like deliciousness in that do-nut, but I'm in a great mood.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
time of my life
I could have been depressed about not getting a weekend, but there was nothing unpleasant about it. It was late last week, and I will still working on printing out 70 copies of a 170-page book for the upcoming seminar by the Sweat Institute here in Atlanta, where hordes of AO chiropractors gather for the biannual meeting. It's a reunion, it's an incredible learning experience, it's a party. It's a celebration of all that I love about this profession. I was doing my normal job on Thursday and Friday, in addition to helping plan for this huge event (the whole office staff was working like a machine to get everything done), all the while with 2-10 visiting docs floating around in the halls, following Dr. Roy, peeking in on the x-ray equipment, asking to see the film analysis software. They were fun, even if their presence did make me a bit nervous. To be honest, I wish every day could have been like Friday, when the clinic was a living, breathing entity, with its visitors and bustling crowds, all overflowing with love for chiropractic and the Sweats.
I worked well past my normal 4-hour morning on Saturday. I went to the seminar at lunchtime, ran some errands, then got to sit in on the presentations, got to eat dinner with all these incredible doctors, got to ride back in an overcrowded truck with 5 of them, laughing all the way back to the hotel, where I sat drinking Budweiser and champagne till 2am, got to hear stories from their days in my shoes, when they were "the intern"s, stories about Dr. Roy, discussions about their clinics and what works and doesn't work in practice, got to hear countless stories about patients whose lives were changed, saved, because of chiropractic, because of Atlas Orthogonal, because of Roy Sweat, a man who I am lucky enough to have as my current boss and mentor. I chatted with some docs I knew, met a bunch I didn't know, networked with those who will be nearby on my next adventure. It was such a loving, fantastic crowd to be involved with.
I had to wake again at 8am on a Sunday, to attend the seminar, help with clean-up. But I also got to sit on the clinic porch drinking more Bud (and later, eating some Waffle House, Dr. Sweat-style) and sharing more stories with people who I now realize are my colleagues, the family I became apart of once I graduated last February and decided I'd do this amazing AO work. It's been such an honor, and such a fun ride, that I don't care if I only got 5 hours of sleep for the rest of my life, it's an experience I only wish I could prolong indefinitely. I was so grateful and ecstatic, almost disbelieving, that I was part of the whole thing. What an overwhelming, amazing weekend.
But, the winds of change are fast approaching, and they are beckoning me onto the next course... one where I will inevitably be equally as grateful for and as excited about.
Life really is beautiful.
I worked well past my normal 4-hour morning on Saturday. I went to the seminar at lunchtime, ran some errands, then got to sit in on the presentations, got to eat dinner with all these incredible doctors, got to ride back in an overcrowded truck with 5 of them, laughing all the way back to the hotel, where I sat drinking Budweiser and champagne till 2am, got to hear stories from their days in my shoes, when they were "the intern"s, stories about Dr. Roy, discussions about their clinics and what works and doesn't work in practice, got to hear countless stories about patients whose lives were changed, saved, because of chiropractic, because of Atlas Orthogonal, because of Roy Sweat, a man who I am lucky enough to have as my current boss and mentor. I chatted with some docs I knew, met a bunch I didn't know, networked with those who will be nearby on my next adventure. It was such a loving, fantastic crowd to be involved with.
I had to wake again at 8am on a Sunday, to attend the seminar, help with clean-up. But I also got to sit on the clinic porch drinking more Bud (and later, eating some Waffle House, Dr. Sweat-style) and sharing more stories with people who I now realize are my colleagues, the family I became apart of once I graduated last February and decided I'd do this amazing AO work. It's been such an honor, and such a fun ride, that I don't care if I only got 5 hours of sleep for the rest of my life, it's an experience I only wish I could prolong indefinitely. I was so grateful and ecstatic, almost disbelieving, that I was part of the whole thing. What an overwhelming, amazing weekend.
But, the winds of change are fast approaching, and they are beckoning me onto the next course... one where I will inevitably be equally as grateful for and as excited about.
Life really is beautiful.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
it never fails...
...leave the house looking like a slob to go grocery shopping at 11pm, and you're guaranteed to end up inadvertently walking onto a movie set.
Well, not quite. But almost.
I was ready for bed, sans make-up, with frizzy post-showered hair, wearing essentially a pajama ensemble that was barely passable as public-appropriate (if a little white trash: tank top and stretchy pants, not the fancy stylish work-out kind), when I decided I couldn't postpone a trip to the store another day (last roll of toilet paper, you know). Knowing there would be no one to impress at the local grocery at this time of night, I gave little thought to my less than put-together appearance.
When I pulled up, I noted a huge Penske truck out front, with all these hoses and generators leading into the store. I thought it curious, but for all I knew, these were regular happenings at the Decatur Kroger on Thursday nights. Or maybe on this particular night, there was some maintenance issue that needed to be fixed? A leaky roof requiring sump-pumps and hoses, or the installation of a floor, or hell, you got me, I just needed some spinach and yogurt and something to wipe my butt with, what did I care? Sure, the truck was blocking the normal entrance, but I didn't think it was necessarily on purpose. And yes, there was a little orange traffic cone in front of the automatic doors, but I was oblivious.
So I stroll in with my grocery cart to have the following crowd staring at me: Tarzan, a few cast-members from the Wizard of Oz, and a man dressed in a bear suit. All in full costume and make-up. That's when I noticed the many bright set-lights all around, the fancy television camera perched just to my left, and then shortly after, that startled, slightly embarrassed realization hit me, that I was standing somewhere I was not supposed to be. And trapped! Those crafty thespians had sufficiently blocked off their corner from the rest of the store, and how! The little off-limits drama-space I'd wandered into was on lock down. With an awkward little, "sorry!", I sheepishly made my way toward the perimeter, where I saw a tiny path I could maybe squeeeeze my way through toward Destination: Produce, and a nice tech girl helped move a big trash can out of the way so I could pass. When I asked her the cause of the hullabaloo, she informed me that they're filming a commercial for the Georgia Lottery. Right in my neighborhood Kroger!
So, boys and girls, just when you think it's safe, for instance, to wander outta the house at 2 am with greasy, disheveled hair, racoon eyes, and wearing only gym shorts and a sports bra - by all means, be yourself, but - keep in mind there might be a camera and a throng of small-time actors waiting for you at your destination.
Well, not quite. But almost.
I was ready for bed, sans make-up, with frizzy post-showered hair, wearing essentially a pajama ensemble that was barely passable as public-appropriate (if a little white trash: tank top and stretchy pants, not the fancy stylish work-out kind), when I decided I couldn't postpone a trip to the store another day (last roll of toilet paper, you know). Knowing there would be no one to impress at the local grocery at this time of night, I gave little thought to my less than put-together appearance.
When I pulled up, I noted a huge Penske truck out front, with all these hoses and generators leading into the store. I thought it curious, but for all I knew, these were regular happenings at the Decatur Kroger on Thursday nights. Or maybe on this particular night, there was some maintenance issue that needed to be fixed? A leaky roof requiring sump-pumps and hoses, or the installation of a floor, or hell, you got me, I just needed some spinach and yogurt and something to wipe my butt with, what did I care? Sure, the truck was blocking the normal entrance, but I didn't think it was necessarily on purpose. And yes, there was a little orange traffic cone in front of the automatic doors, but I was oblivious.
So I stroll in with my grocery cart to have the following crowd staring at me: Tarzan, a few cast-members from the Wizard of Oz, and a man dressed in a bear suit. All in full costume and make-up. That's when I noticed the many bright set-lights all around, the fancy television camera perched just to my left, and then shortly after, that startled, slightly embarrassed realization hit me, that I was standing somewhere I was not supposed to be. And trapped! Those crafty thespians had sufficiently blocked off their corner from the rest of the store, and how! The little off-limits drama-space I'd wandered into was on lock down. With an awkward little, "sorry!", I sheepishly made my way toward the perimeter, where I saw a tiny path I could maybe squeeeeze my way through toward Destination: Produce, and a nice tech girl helped move a big trash can out of the way so I could pass. When I asked her the cause of the hullabaloo, she informed me that they're filming a commercial for the Georgia Lottery. Right in my neighborhood Kroger!
So, boys and girls, just when you think it's safe, for instance, to wander outta the house at 2 am with greasy, disheveled hair, racoon eyes, and wearing only gym shorts and a sports bra - by all means, be yourself, but - keep in mind there might be a camera and a throng of small-time actors waiting for you at your destination.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
tragic case, indeed
I dare the religious right to read this story and continue to argue with a straight face that birth control is a bad thing.
And I would almost add, with a snarky little smirk on my face, "I'd love to hear what they have to say." But in reality, I have no desire, nor energy, to listen to the inevitable unfounded, anti-sex, faith-based reason they'd fabricate to argue how all contraception should be avoided no matter the cost. Because the truth is, illogical people are exhausting.
So I'm gonna return to my tea and Dave Eggers and pretend that I live in a world where only educated, common sensical people exist.
And I would almost add, with a snarky little smirk on my face, "I'd love to hear what they have to say." But in reality, I have no desire, nor energy, to listen to the inevitable unfounded, anti-sex, faith-based reason they'd fabricate to argue how all contraception should be avoided no matter the cost. Because the truth is, illogical people are exhausting.
So I'm gonna return to my tea and Dave Eggers and pretend that I live in a world where only educated, common sensical people exist.
Friday, May 8, 2009
how apropos
Last night, I dreamt I was running late to a wedding. For some reason, I'd wandered into the street in my pajamas, and came across the church where everyone was congregating. Then I realized I hadn't showered or gotten ready yet. I couldn't manage to find my way back the house I had slept at (presumably a friend's). The church took up about 12 city blocks, and I couldn't get around it, even as I was running so late. What might all this mean? (Emphases below are mine.)
Late
To dream that you are late, denotes your fear of change and your ambivalence about seizing an opportunity. You may feel unready, unworthy, or unsupported in your current circumstances. Additionally, you may be overwhelmed or conflicted with decisions about your future.
Wedding
To see a wedding in your dream, symbolizes a new beginning or transition in your current life. They reflect your issues about commitment and independence.
I find it interesting that even in my dream state, I am fucking freaking out about upcoming changes. Conflicted and overwhelmed with the transitions in my current life. To think, some people believe dreams are totally random and mean nothing...
Late
To dream that you are late, denotes your fear of change and your ambivalence about seizing an opportunity. You may feel unready, unworthy, or unsupported in your current circumstances. Additionally, you may be overwhelmed or conflicted with decisions about your future.
Wedding
To see a wedding in your dream, symbolizes a new beginning or transition in your current life. They reflect your issues about commitment and independence.
I find it interesting that even in my dream state, I am fucking freaking out about upcoming changes. Conflicted and overwhelmed with the transitions in my current life. To think, some people believe dreams are totally random and mean nothing...
Thursday, May 7, 2009
lauri's head
week 1.
Yes! Seattle! How fantastic, that this fantastic job in this fantastic place has fallen into my lap! It's all so... fantastic! Weeeeeee!
week 2.
Hmm. I hope everything works out. I mean, sure it will! ...right?! It's the Pac northwest, for crying out loud! And the doctor seemed perfectly lovely on the phone. And, and, and she seems thrilled that I'm coming! Of course it's all fine. I just sent in $600 for state licensure. It'll work out, it always does! So yes, how fantastic! Weee!
week 3.
Oh wow. It's a 3-day drive. And how will I get all my crap out there? Will my cat survive that drive? Where will I live? It's all gonna be so rushed. Atlanta to Houston in one day. Two days to pack and settle affairs in Texas. Houston to Seattle in three days. Hmmm. Well...it should be fun, right? I'm going west! Oregon trail!
week 4.
Shit. What if it doesn't work out? She may not like me. 90-day probation period, you know. I may not like it there! I wonder how long I should plan on staying. Where will I really end up, like for good? Maybe I should wait to move ALL my shit up there. Maybe I shouldn't be naive and assume everything will always be perfect and happy and wonderful, always. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Now I'm worried. Why am I so worried? I wish I didn't worry so damn much. Curse the heavens! Why don't I ever know anything about anything, ever? Why is this so difficult?! Why must I freak out at everything? Oh my god!! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!?!?
(to be continued....)
Yes! Seattle! How fantastic, that this fantastic job in this fantastic place has fallen into my lap! It's all so... fantastic! Weeeeeee!
week 2.
Hmm. I hope everything works out. I mean, sure it will! ...right?! It's the Pac northwest, for crying out loud! And the doctor seemed perfectly lovely on the phone. And, and, and she seems thrilled that I'm coming! Of course it's all fine. I just sent in $600 for state licensure. It'll work out, it always does! So yes, how fantastic! Weee!
week 3.
Oh wow. It's a 3-day drive. And how will I get all my crap out there? Will my cat survive that drive? Where will I live? It's all gonna be so rushed. Atlanta to Houston in one day. Two days to pack and settle affairs in Texas. Houston to Seattle in three days. Hmmm. Well...it should be fun, right? I'm going west! Oregon trail!
week 4.
Shit. What if it doesn't work out? She may not like me. 90-day probation period, you know. I may not like it there! I wonder how long I should plan on staying. Where will I really end up, like for good? Maybe I should wait to move ALL my shit up there. Maybe I shouldn't be naive and assume everything will always be perfect and happy and wonderful, always. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Now I'm worried. Why am I so worried? I wish I didn't worry so damn much. Curse the heavens! Why don't I ever know anything about anything, ever? Why is this so difficult?! Why must I freak out at everything? Oh my god!! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?!?!?
(to be continued....)
Saturday, May 2, 2009
beside myself
After a two-week visit with a wonderful friend from a far away land, scoring a job in Seattle and discovering I'll be moving there in as little as six weeks, and contemplating my more figured-out but still somewhat uncertain future existence, I am beat and feel like I could sleep for days. I certainly intended to (continue to) drink all this wine that's somehow found its way into my kitchen, but one day off wasn't enough to recover, even if it did feature a blockbuster comic book movie and comforting discussions about life with a friend.
On the upside, I am not dead or maimed after my very-near-wreck on this morning's commute. It'd been raining all weekend, was pouring earlier, and as I was entering the highway ramp doing about 60, a silver car jetted in front of me at 90 degrees, crossing four (miraculously clear) lanes at I'm guessing around 60 as well - presumably hydroplaning - causing me to skid and nearly lose control of my own car. He ended up halfway off the road, facing almost 180, and I'd stopped on the shoulder, safe but shaken. If I had left my apartment a second earlier, or didn't have to endure being stuck behind that one slow-mo a minute before, or there wasn't a long line at the light, or etc, etc, etc... Mr. Silver Slider would have rammed right into my door and who knows what then. Funny how even insignificant events can make or literally break you or your day.
So thanks, Mr. Silver, for being a peculiar piece of silver lining on such a crap day. I'm glad we didn't die.
On the upside, I am not dead or maimed after my very-near-wreck on this morning's commute. It'd been raining all weekend, was pouring earlier, and as I was entering the highway ramp doing about 60, a silver car jetted in front of me at 90 degrees, crossing four (miraculously clear) lanes at I'm guessing around 60 as well - presumably hydroplaning - causing me to skid and nearly lose control of my own car. He ended up halfway off the road, facing almost 180, and I'd stopped on the shoulder, safe but shaken. If I had left my apartment a second earlier, or didn't have to endure being stuck behind that one slow-mo a minute before, or there wasn't a long line at the light, or etc, etc, etc... Mr. Silver Slider would have rammed right into my door and who knows what then. Funny how even insignificant events can make or literally break you or your day.
So thanks, Mr. Silver, for being a peculiar piece of silver lining on such a crap day. I'm glad we didn't die.
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