Myra Faye Turner, Writer
I’m having one of those weeks. You know the type of week that starts off on a sour note and you find yourself in a funky mood for the rest of the week. Yeah, that kind of week.
After dropping my son off at school on Monday, while stopped at a red light, a young man ran into the back of my car. I don’t mean tapped it — I’m talking slammed into it. I mean fucked (excuse my French) up my bumper, lights and trunk. Okay, stuff happens. But what’s really got me pissed is this dude took off. It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to write down his license plate or snap or picture or anything.
After he ran off, I was so pissed. Both at myself and at him. I admonished myself for not snapping a picture and for not taking off after him. Of course, taking off after him would not have been a smart move. Not in this trigger-crazy world we live in.
Now, I have to pay the price for his irresponsibility. When you work for someone else and you have issues, you go to work and do the best you can. You don’t have the option of not working. One of the perks of working for yourself is choosing not to work. But sometimes we don’t have that option, so we have to keep it moving—no matter how funky we feel.
This week was not a week for me to take time off to stew in my own depressed juices. I have deadlines to meet. But it’s been difficult getting motivated to write, even with deadlines looming. It’s taken me until today to at least not feel like crying. I’m still not at 100% but I’m hoping to make it through the week and hopefully after getting some rest this weekend I will stop beating myself up over an incident that I had no control over. At least I learned my lesson. If I ever get in an accident again, I’m not getting out of my car without my phone ready to snap a picture, or at least with a pen and paper handy.