After almost seven full years of driving, I’ve had my first truly unsettling accident.
The pros? That there was no one else involved and I am astoundingly unhurt for having been in a car that re-enacted a bowling bowl in the bumpered lane, thrown by a hydroplaning toddler who may or may not have also had a flat tire and steering malfunctions at the time. Poor, dangerous toddler.
The cons? It’s the kind of accident that makes me revisit those initial driver’s ed fears of having to trust machinery to do what you tell it to do. So opaque, much of the process. I am the sort of person who likes to *know*. It has been a lifelong struggle to simply accept that there are things that I have no choice about, no choice but to let go of them. And one of those things is accidents that could not have been reasonably prevented in any way.
I love my car and will miss him. Hopefully he can come back to me soon. I still love rain and don’t think I’ll be afraid of driving. I can’t move much really because it hurts (different from the usual laziness), but it will clear up in the next few days, says the doctor.
The doctor wants me to come back to discuss my fatigue. I appreciate her not burdening me with other potential health problems of mine at that visit. Freaking $6 cab ride there. I walked the half-hour back once I’d been told I was okay, generally.
I am listening to The Rainbow Connection on this also-rainy day and lying about as still as possible, wondering what I will eat.
My Secret Boyfriend 