Actually, it was less than one. It was a fraction of a minute, the amount that would be pictorialized by a dust mote, or a graphite shaving from a pencil. Just the tiniest blink, soft and quick and barely perceptible, like eyelashes at dusk.
Blindingly fabulous imagery aside, I attribute my good fortune in not being broadsided by a very determined, in-the-wrong sedan in part to my video-game-playing skills. I think the more you play puzzle-type games, the more you visually see where you do fit, and where you do not. Thus, as Shit For Brains decided he was going to cross Ward Parkway, in the rain, in rush hour traffic, despite my oncoming right-of-way presence, I had the presence of mind to hit the gas. Thus evading having my rear passenger side being hit. I knew, as I did it, that there was still a chance he’d hit me, and with the increased speed, I was going to spin crazily and more extremely than if I’d hit the brakes. But if I’d hit the brakes, I’d have been hit for sure. And as it registered I was in the clear, I moved my white knuckle grip down to hit the horn. God, I hate the horn in the Honda. It’s like having a mosquito on the bullhorn, and while it’s annoying, it doesn’t register nearly the level of vitriolic anger I NEED to communicate in situations like that. It was quite a scare, and I wanted to turn around & chase the guy down, give him a real what-for, shake my fist in his face, maybe even a little bitch-slap. But I didn’t. After all, I’d already pushed the karma luck bank as it was, with such a narrow escape. And it made me think how all those things conspire – is it fate? is it random? is it chaos? Those little slivers of time where one sliver too late and you’re pushin’ up daisies at Park Lawn – but you got the sliver before that later sliver, and so you made it, heart pounding, contemplating your New York Minute and how you were spared, at the very least, a police report, a totaled car, some whiplash & your new glasses smashed into the bridge of your nose by the airbag.
I’m delighted to report I’m staying home tomorrow, on a vacation day. It’s going to be busy: return/exchanges at Linens’N’Things, do some of the work I brought home, walk on the treadmill, finish the laundry, do the dishes, sew something, anything, get the sewing machine hummin’, go volunteer, and itch the chigger bites all over my freakin’ feet. It will, despite the itchin’, be a glorious day, because my car is not smashed in, I am the definer of my life, and I have a dog who wants to hug me ALL THE TIME.