Burnout has two meanings this week for me. I’m burned-out on typing this week after my laptop shut off on me, with no reason, and I lost five and half pages of typed out work. Usually my typing programs save it for me if something unexpected happens, and will come back up the next time I open that program. Well, this time, it decided it would open all the documents I’d been using at the time of the shut off, EXPECT for the one I was really working hard on. I was glade it’d saved the other seven, but those were just fun typing pages that probably wouldn’t lead to anything, while the one that didn’t save was on The Birth, which I’d really been working on lately. Over five-thousand words down the drain… I was so pissed, I called my laptop a very bad word that I don’t use very often, shocking my mother. She ignores my cussing, but the F-bomb is kind of hard to ignore. Haha.
The second meaning of burnout for me this week, is the more literal meaning of it. My Papa and I were in town, he was taking me for another ride around so I can get more used to driving in town, dealing with traffic, and the occasional stupid driver. Well, I usually only ever run into a stupid driver when I’m with mom, but today, Papa and I got a very big shock. We were sitting at a light. It’d just turned red on us and I stopped, just like you’re suppose to. The people in the lane beside me stopped as well, even the people on the opposite side stopped. Papa was explaining to me why it’s better to catch a light then it is to have to pull out through two lanes of coming traffic. I was listening intently while I was staring at the red light, waiting for it to turn. I just happened to look over to the opposite lane of traffic at that moment when a red van came racing toward the stop light. I figured it was going to stop, especially since the light was red, and a black car was already pulling forward, off the ramp, coming from the highway. Well, I was sorely wrong. The van ran the red light, smashed into the side of the front end of the black car, then came barreling toward Papa and me in the truck. My first instinct was to press the gas and get out of the way, but I wouldn’t have been quick enough. But luckily, the driver of the red van seemed to be able to get control of his van when it went over the cement raise between the lanes and turned the nose of his car so that it missed the truck by just a few inches, then it was about to hit the white care behind us, but was able to miss it as well and run back over the cement raise and stop. The can and car were both smoking from where they’d made contact. The wrack hadn’t been to bad, the guy in the black car was alright enough to open his door and pick of a few of the pieces of his door that fell to the ground. He wasn’t injured, but he was probably very shaken up, and if I were him, MAD. Papa and I didn’t stay long enough to see if the guy in the red van got out, the light had turned green and we went on to Wal-Mart. Papa hadn’t seen the wreck, he’d been looking away. He’d assumed it had been the black cars fault, I’d quickly corrected him. The guy in the black car had done NOTHING wrong.
I tell you, I will never forget the sound of the metal of the cars colliding and the sight of the metal flying. I’d been in wrecks before, so I knew what they felt like, but I’d never seen one, especially not as it happened. Man, I knew people were stupid, but not stupid enough to run into something with their car when they can SEE it.
On a funny note, I got some things for my Grandma in Wal-Mart. There was a child in the chip isle, sitting in the car, with her mother standing beside it, looking at the chips. She’d looked at me, then at her mom, then back at me and pointed at me.(man, I’ve gotten weird looks because of the way I dress, but never pointed at, haha) The only question she had about me was, ‘Mommy, is she the mommy?’ Man, I swear-that kid had to be at least nine or ten. I can’t believe she could look at me and honestly think I’m a mother! It was rather insulting. But, apparently, for her, anyone in a store with a cart is dubbed a ‘mommy’ by this child, no matter what they look like. I mean, I don’t look like a mother, and hell, I’m not old enough. Plus, I had no child in my cart. I have no idea where’d she get the idea of asking such a question. I didn’t wait to hear what the mother would say to her question, I got out of that isle as quickly as possible because the child looked like she wanted to direct her next question at me instead of about me. And I really didn’t want to answer such a stupid question. My mom got a kick out of that when I told her.
Leave a comment
No comments yet.
Squeaky
Sharp Shoot's 
Leave a comment