workout plan

workout plan

Friday, October 9, 2015

Road rage, road rage, road rage, massage.

Good Friday to you all!

My kids will tell you that I am a verbal driver.  I communicate with other drivers mostly by informing them, at loud volumes and usually behind the protective windows of my vehicle, that they are morons who know nothing of the rules of the road.  Car pools to and from school were so much fun for the kids because they would have to explain that no, I wasn't mad at anyone in the car...I was furious with all the other drivers.

That hasn't improved with age. I mean, I'm not the greatest, safest driver in the world. No one really is except the one person who IS the greatest safest driver in the world and honestly, he/she isn't someone any of us knows.  He/She probably lives in Vermont.  That's where my dad use to say all the lottery winners lived.  "Some little old lady in Vermont won that lottery, all the winning numbers are there."  I don't know what my dad had against Vermont....

Anyway, I'm off topic.  I talk to other drivers. I point out when they aren't using their directionals. I
make a suggestion as to whether they should speed up or slow down or MOVE OVER.  Things like that.

But I never...ever...EVER...give any driver "the finger."  It's rude.  It's nasty.  And honestly, I've heard too many horror stories about road rage turning into something wild on the interstate. I've got things to do...I don't have time to get into some shoot out.  I mean, it might sound great, you know, road rage turned high speed chase turned into a hostage situation where some one's barricaded themselves in their homes.

Side question:  When, exactly, do you go from "Not being all that social" to "Barricading yourself in your house?"  I mean, I see this stuff on the news all the time.  Police are surrounding a house because some one's barricaded themselves in.  And it doesn't always involve hostages, sometimes it's just that the guy (it's usually a guy, which is why I'm asking because we women typically can't stand to stay in the house without human contact for more than a day or so and then we have to get out. That's why malls were invented.) doesn't want to come out of his house.  When did that become a problem or a crime?  Why do people call the cops for that?  So my neighbor, who is a single man, doesn't come out of his house for a few days.  Hubby and I figure he's having some alone time and he'll come out when he's good and ready. We use the same logic on Skippy who has been known to stay in his room for up to 36 hours.  I mean, what, kid has a day off, wants to binge watch "Orange is the New Black" and I have to call the cops?  

I digress.

With my new job I don't get out on the roads all that often.  That's a good thing, but I'm starting to wonder, now that I've worked at this magical job for six months, have driving laws changed?   Or is today just opposite day?  See, I'm trying to figure out why the guy in the Lexus flipped me "the finger" this afternoon while I was on my way to my massage.

Oh yeah, I get massages now.  It's so great.  Since I'm walking so much more everything hurts. I mean, everything hurt before, but now everything hurts and I'm told it's good because it's my muscles breaking through layers of fat to reach the surface and breath air.  Or some such nonsense. But today I was getting a massage because yesterday something pinched in my neck and I wasn't able to turn my head to the right. At all. Not without screaming in pain.  And then I got this blazing headache.
 Like my head was on fire and fire was being thrown at the walls of my brain from a tiny little trebuchet inside my head. Hubby suggested it was a result of my new binge watch favorite, "American Horror Story."  Admittedly, I'm watching "Asylum" right now and yeah, it's creepy, but I'm not having nightmares, I'm having shooting neck pain and a fiery headache. But come in...they just found a Nazi war criminal!  This is getting good! (Oh sure, I picked "Asylum" because Adam Levine is in it...and spoiler alert...he dies in like the first ten minutes of the series, but still, I'm enjoying this.)

So I scheduled a massage for today and I get in my Cube and drove to the massage. About halfway there I'm on a road that's pretty wide, but not a road I'd say is perfect for two lanes in both directions.  It's more like a driving lane and a fairly wide parking lane where no one parks, but everyone drives.
I was driving along, minding my own business, in the driving lane when this silver Lexus roars around me on the right and speeds past me, the driver with his hand out of his window saluting me with "the finger" for at least four blocks.

I checked my speed. Nope, I was going the required 15 mph over the posted 25 mph limit, so speed wasn't the problem.  (I am not a speed demon, but I find 25 MPH in a non residential area to be far too restrictive.)  I wasn't hanging over into the parking lane.  Honestly, not sure why this guy decided to harsh my mellow by giving me the finger.

At least I got a moment to shoot him a quizzical look because, as is the case with most road rage finger flippers, he and I were stopped at the same red light. He just got there three seconds ahead of me.  I counted.  One-Mississippi, two-Mississippi...like that. He made a right hand turn on red before I had a chance to yell "Aren't you so glad you had to rush around me like that, MORON?"  Which sort of made me grumbly because that's my release when someone does something stupid on the road.

The good news is my massage went well. My neck pain is all but gone, and I have another massage set up for next month because I've decided I'm old and everything hurts and if I'm going to insist on obeying the rules of the Fit Bit, then I have to have someone ease the notes and kinks and pain away. And that person may as well be Dr. Jackie who is this tiny little thing. She's so cute. When she finishes a massage she rests her hands on me for a moment like she's praying.

I wonder if I can count that as church?


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