Lunch Hour
October 17th, 2007
Tay picks me up at work. We drive to the smoothie place, and she runs over a pigeon when we get into the parking lot. The pigeon does not die, but in the rear view mirror we can see it pointlessly flapping its wings, scampering across the pavement, going nowhere fast.
She cries in the car. There are tears while we order and wait for our smoothies.
We drive to Tay’s new apartment, which is quiet and mostly empty, still waiting for her to inhabit. Our only effort to spruce up is to quietly hang a temporary shower curtain - just a liner, really - while we drink our smoothies.
We leave Tay’s apartment. On the way back to my office, a monster pickup truck rolls through a stop sign at an intersection. We are headed directly towards the pickup, at a normal rate of speed since we don’t have a stop sign. I scream. Tay slams on the brakes, and the car skids and squeals and uses every bit of restraint it can muster to come to a stop about .5 inches from the pickup. We are terrified, holding our breath, not blinking. The pickup driver doesn’t flinch. Or stop. He turns his head, looks right through us, and keeps driving.
Two blocks further she drops me off. Lunch hour is over.
I haven’t had as much happen to me in a year as you’ve encountered on your lunch hour. You should post your lunch hour every day.
Sometimes reading your daughter’s blog is hazardous to your (mental) health….I’m going to go drink my lunch now.
jeeeesuz… I’m joining Mom for that drink.
i’m mixing my second cocktail right now.
glad you’re both okay.