On Sale Ice Cream

If it wasn't for the scream of sideways tires or the image of the oncoming SUV in my rearview mirror or the look of horror on the driver's face just as the out of control truck came within inches of me, I may have resisted the carton of vanilla ice cream easier.  But this was Perry's ice cream, and it was on sale.  And, that idiot in the knit sherpa hat who was not paying attention to the fact that the line of traffic was behind a Metro bus that occasionally stops to let people out even if the left hand lane continues to flow needs an emphatic slap in the head.  Going too fast to begin with in congested traffic.

This is why I leave extra space between me and the car ahead, especially when stopped in a line.  I was able to zip forward just enough for physics to work, avoiding lord knows what.  It shook me up, the nitwit and I exchanged 'sorry' and 'I'm okay' waves, and the SUV then cut across a parking lot to avoid the red light at the corner and sped on.   A version of hurried drivers also happens on the way to work.

In the morning, I drive up an eastbound four lane one way street to make a turn onto a northbound one way arterial that heads out of the city.  Two lanes of cars are able to make the left hand turn, and when the light changes, they try quickly as possible to get through and here's the problem: pedestrians are using the cross walk that cuts through this left turn onto the one-way connecting street during morning rush hour and they take their life in their hands.  Not only are the drivers huffy, but often are facing directly into the sun, which blinds them.  I have seen more people almost get hit by cars and wonder for heaven's sake, why not cross on the opposite side where traffic is not trying to turn into your pathway?  

The point is, pedestrians have the right of way so stop already.  Point two, these cars are in such a hurry but they only get to make the turn around the corner and then Bam! are stopped at the next very close intersection by the light which is always red because it is synchronized with the rest of the lights still holding northbound traffic.  You ain't gettin' anywhere, Geronimo.

My car is small but weighs about 3000 pounds.  In an accident, hitting an object at 35 mph causes the front end to stop first, but the rest of the tonnage is still moving forward at 35 mph; things are compressing like an infernal accordion.  This continues, finally with your bones being stopped by the seat belt but your internal organs are still going at 35 mph until they hit your skeleton.  Anything in the back seat or anyone not wearing a seatbelt keeps traveling at thirty-five miles an hour, and hits the dashboard or windshield hard enough to cause death by being crushed.  Imagine if you were being whipped about, just you, into a tree at thirty-five mph and what happened next.  Newton's Law of Motion says that you should slow the Friday down.

But now, I am thinking that a bowl of Panda Paws might be nice.  Calcium, I say, right before bed helps induce sleep and makes memories of mindless zombie drivers fade into shadows surrounding the rising moon.  Tulip has found a catnip mouse upon which she is using cat kung-fu.  Tulip is shaped like a teapot; round everywhere with a stub of a tail as the spout.  Kai enters and flops onto her back, one arm extended in my direction.  This is to compel me with deliberate begging to hand out ice cream, but she has already had a bit of chicken and her nightly whipped cream.  Her blue eyes are drowsily half-shut but my brain is still able to resist cat rays.  Maybe ice cream for her tomorrow, since I also brought home some plain vanilla to share.

A bit of work before bed, a slice of melon for the plecostomus.  Pancake Tuesday, Ash Wednesday, clocks change this weekend.  Ah well, work to do.  Shake out the winter blankets, toss them over the line to air; too early to put them away, but I can tell you know there is a change coming.  Start some seeds, it's about that time.  Sleep away, soon the first robins will be yelling their heads off at dusk.  Maple sap rise, head tuck under wing.