This winter, Rachael and I have been CURSED. Well, maybe only I have been cursed. Or maybe Rachael is arranging meet-ups with me, then informing a hit-man/woman of my route in order to get me killed. I don't know. Rachael, did you put a hit out on me? Is it because we accidentally buy and make the same clothes?
The first time, I was driving to Rachael's house so we could go to Fort Wayne to go to several yarn stores, Biaggi's, and as many bakeries as we could find. On the way, it was snowing. It wasn't bad enough for me to descend into raw panic, but it was bad enough to cause some slippery road issues. The solution was to drive normally, but reduce speed for turning and also to not slam on the brakes like one would when stomping a spider into oblivion. No problem.
But then, as I drove past the Happy Horse Farm, which Mom named because the horses there looked well cared for and...happy, a dude with some kind of top-of-the-line Chevy truck pulled out of the Happy Horse Farm Driveway, pulling an empty horse trailer. And while the truck had awesome traction and what-not, the horse trailer may well have been the FIRST HORSE TRAILER EVER, it was so beaten and abused, and it did NOT have traction at all, resulting in the trailer swinging back and forth behind the truck like a toddler with one of those duck pull-toy things. You know the ones.
That would not have been a problem, except I was in the opposite lane and suddenly a ginormous truck-plus-trailer was heading directly toward me, poised for a head-on collision. And I had nowhere to go, except off the side of the road, which was elevated, then down into the ditch where I would be trapped until my car could be drug back out, if my car did not flip and roll several times.
Mercifully, the truck regained control before I had to choose between the two.
Then I met up with Rachael and Katherine, and we ate lots of pastries to make up for the near-death experience. And we also bought yarn. To cushion us in case of a deadly, deadly crash.
Today, I was meeting Rachael for lunch, because we do that sometimes. And on my way, as I drove through yet another snow storm, I came to a stop at a light. It was a red light. Then I looked in my rear-view mirror.
In the mirror, I saw a giant Mack truck. They are bigger than the Chevy ones, and are often used in road repair to carry around gravel and things. But this one must have been empty, because it was not heavy enough to avoid the fact that it was going too fast to stop for the light where I was stopped. Much too fast.
But the driver tried to stop anyway, resulting in the entire truck veering to one side, then proceeding down the road, sideways. So, I was about to be rear-ended by this truck, or rather, the truck's side. If I was lucky, only the top of my car would be sheared off as the truck slid over my car.
Have I mentioned that I just finished paying off my car? This is why people keep trying to destroy it.
The light changed, so I drove forward, hoping that my slow acceleration would allow the truck enough time not to kill me, and I was RIGHT. The truck corrected and proceeded behind me at a safe distance, and I met Rachael and we ate BLTs. This was much better than being subjected to the jaws of life.
And now, I have the extreme pleasure of driving home on the questionable roads this evening. I am planning on a night covered in the heating blanket I got for Christmas, and maybe even a cup of hot chocolate before bed. If I survive the drive, that is. Wish me luck.
And here is my favorite snow-driving video, for entertainment purposes. I was not driving any of the cars in this video.
**A Note on Blogger-ly Things: You may notice that the comment form has changed. Hooray! This is a wonderful thing, because one can now reply to comments, meaning I can reply directly to you! Isn't that lovely?**
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
[Camera pans over library. Laura sits in desk chair, staring at cell phone. She is visually nervous. Narrator is offstage, speaking for Laura as she sits quietly onstage.]
Narrator: Some days, I am like, "It's so great that today is almost over, and I get to go home and have fun because today is Fri--Thursday. Crap." Because on Wednesdays and Thursdays, I don't leave work at five. I leave at eight.
Today is one of those days.
And that creates a problem, because I was making plans with Jen for a Girl's Night, and all week I have had the startling realization that it is not the day after the day it actually is, so planning things, it has been hard.
So tonight, due to my stupidity, will have to be Girl's Night Abridged. And that will be fine, except not if I told Jen that I finished work at five like I think I did, and I think that is what I did. I think I told her five. I meant eight. Math has never been my strong suit.
Now, if I were a normal girl, which I am not, I wouldn't freak out about this.
But I am not a normal girl. Like I just said. I'm not. Really.
I am Super Anxiety Girl, who creates imaginary mistakes for herself, then punishes herself for them. Like right now.
[Laura quietly freaks out]
Narrator: I'm all like, "It's three-o-eight, Jen! CHECK YOUR CELL. Have you checked it yet? Get with the checking!"
But there is no new text.
Which means Jen still has no idea about the late-working-ness of tonight.
[Laura continues to freak out]
Narrator: It's three seventeen. THREE SEVENTEEN. Is Jen out of school yet? She must be. I think we used to get out of school at three back when I was little. Didn't we? Was it three or three-twenty? I can't remember. Stupid Laura can't remember. *freaks out some more*
This is not good. I will go down in history as Laura, the Bad Friend who tells people wrong times of things.
I wonder if my cell phone keeps a copy of texts I have sent?
[Laura checks cell]
Narrator: STUPID PHONE, RUINING MY LIFE.
It it clearly the phone's fault. Also, I am such a bad texter! I text terribly, and I cannot get messages unless I turn my phone on and off and stand up on top of my bed to get a signal! I get messages hours after they were sent! This is my phone's fault!
Except that no. It is my fault. Because I am a Bad Friend.
[Laura freaks out even more. Checks phone again, keeps staring at phone]
Narrator: It might be okay. Jen has never murdered me before. I am still alive, after all. But what if she is BORED. Alone and bored, while I am working? Well. Then the boredness would be my fault. Because I suck. I am a pile of suck.
Stupid Laura, ruining everyone's life.
Little Voice In Head Whose Job It Is to Kick Laura When She Is Down: [From offstage] "Also you look stupid in those pants and are generally unattractive!"
Laura: "Shut up, you."
[phone lights up with new text]
Laura: [reads text out loud] "Yes, You did." [sighs and slumps back against chair]
[Stage lights off. Exeunt Laura]