Just Because I Share the Road Does Not Mean I Share the Love

Last Friday I was in a hurry when I left work. Actually, I'm always in a hurry when I leave work, but Friday I was having my boss and her husband over for dinner and I had to get groceries, then get Adam from daycare, then get home and have everything ready for their 7:15 arrival.

My commute from the office is a scenic route past a city park, horse stables, churches, a couple schools and our beloved Chattahoochee River. Then comes seven miles of suburban 4-lane highway lined with strip malls, subdivisions, churches and restaurants. Oh, and churches.

I was keeping my fingers crossed for a swift drive to my neck of the woods, given that traffic had been light that morning since most people took the rest of the week off after the 4th. The streets surrounding my office, normally swarming with cars at 3:30 on any given Friday, were unusually quiet. "Great," I thought as I zoomed down the road. "this is better than I'd hoped for."

And then there he was. Hot Shot Hot Rod in his Porsche. Pulled right out in front of me, oh yes he did. But I didn't even give that much thought because...hello...Porsche. Porsche = fast. Porsche = this guy will be out of my sight in 60 seconds. Um, no. Didn't happen. This guy was going so slow, I had to hit the brake several times or else I would have ended up in the front seat with him. Maybe that would have been just the thing. I could have floored it for him. Finally! The Tortoise in the Porsche turn left and I thought I was free and clear.

And I was, until I got behind the flat bed hauling port-a-potties. Let me say right here that those things make me gag just looking at them. And I looked at them for a loooooong time. A really long time. Four of them; two blue and two green. If there is anything worse than being behind a slow Porsche, it's being behind four port-a-potties. Honestly, y'all, I considered pulling over just to give the potties a half mile berth.

Finally! The potties turned right and I had the free and clear.

Until I got behind the U-haul with the back door cracked so all the guys in the back could have some fresh air. A U-haul full of day laborers in my path. Every once in awhile the guard would change and a new face or two or four would appear beneath the crack. Once they got their oxygen renewed they'd stare at me through the exhaust. I wonder what they were thinking. I was thinking, "Turn, baby, turn. Get out of my way!"

And they did turn, eventually, but I think the whole bunch of them had gone through the rotation by then and they were back to the original two guys.

All this congestion and I still got to the grocery, and then to daycare, and then home before the rain started.

Is there a moral to this story? Oh, yes. Yes, there is.

A wonderful dinner with my family and friends washes all cares away in under 60 seconds.