So, yesterday, I drove to work. It was only the 2nd time in 3 months that I have driven to work. Usually, I take MAX. However, yesterday, my appointment was very far away from home, and then also very far away from work. So, I drove.
Then, last night, it was raining. And I drove home. And into the back of another car. I ruined my perfect driving record. My driving record, that except for an eensy-weensy fender bender in a parking lot in 1997, had nary a splotch on it. A driving record that stood up through seven fucking years in Los Angeles.
I went to knitting last night, anyways, because
1) I’d left my house keys at work and the architect was working late
2) The architect was working late, and I didn’t want to be home alone
3) The hostess called me and told me she’d purchased a variety of cheeses, just for me
And really, I’m okay. The only thing that really hurts more today than yesterday is my right arm, which I’m pretty sure I used to brace myself on the steering wheel when I realized I wasn’t going to stop in time.
My car is mostly okay. It’s drivable – just a little smooshed looking in front. I’ll probably have to get that fixed.
But it sucks. I don’t have a lot of money, and this is just one more thing. It made my happy mood go away (although I took more happy pills this morning, and felt better for most of the morning).
It just seems like every time things start going really well, the universe has the need to shit all over me. Not that things are awful. I’m well aware that things could have been exponentially worse. But I feel awful. I feel like it’s the end of the world sometimes.