My morning commute totals about eight miles round trip. Take the kids to daycare then head back to the basement office. It is quick and pretty boring. That is, until arriving at daycare. The parking lot of a daycare facility at 7:15 in the morning is a murder pit. There’s something about parents at that hour. Perhaps coffees have not kicked in or the droning of small children just shuts off brains. If you saw Mad Max over the weekend, or even witnessed the 80s version, a daycare parking lot has a similar feel. The key to survival is to try to time arrival at7:10, before the collective arrives and chaos takes hold. Failing that, as is always the case, the goal is to move slowly and hope no one else flips into reverse as you vacate the lot.
This morning, after dodging a small child with no parent in sight and swerving to avoid a Fiat of all things, I escaped the lot. The kids were safely inside the building and well out of ear shot so my mild cursing would not be committed to their memory to ultimately be repeated within that daycare building. Long story short, the mid-way point of my daily commute really makes or breaks the morning.
Leaving the lot behind me and rejoining the highway, an Mazda CX-9 zipped down the left lane in good shape to pass me. Then sat next to me. Just the two of us side by side going 55 and otherwise alone on this stretch of highway. The driver finally made a move to pass, after I slowed, and pulled in front of me just before a traffic light. The story’s main character had revealed herself and all was well the morning.
Today’s tale is titled: Water Bottle Continue reading