(no subject)
H'okay, so....
On my way to work this morning, I was minding my own business and happily singing along with my CD player. I was on the final leg of my journey, between Centreville and Three Rivers when I come up behind a truck. Most trucks I encounter on my daily commute are nothing out of the ordinary. They are larger than my car, traveling at a good speed, sometimes hauling some sort of work-related equipment, and could probably squash my car like the cockroach it is. This particular truck followed all of the norms but one: it just so happened to be traveling at approximately 15 miles per hour on a road I usually go 65-70 down. After a semi-rapid deceleration to avoid becoming a new trailor hitch on my new friend's automobile, and silently muttering a few swears at my fellow motorist, I decided the best move would be to pass him and continue on my way. I estimated that I should have to go no faster than 25 miles per hour to pass this auto and began to execute the manuver. No sooner had I done so did my friend begin to speed up from his brisk 15mph to a blistering 60. Thinking that maybe he had just drifted off into a daydream and didn't realize how slow he was going, I fell back into line behind said truck and expected to arrive at my destination shortly. No such luck. As soon as I found my place back behind the truck, he slowed back down to 15mph. This pattern repeated two more times before I had finally had enough. When I went out to pass him for the fourth time, I wasn't taking no for an answer. Just as I was about to edge in front of him - somewhere between 75 and 80 miles per hour, a possum decided it would be a grand time to cross the street...directly in my path.
I don't know if you've ever had an animal come out in front of you at 80ish, but no matter how small the animal, it is still quite a trial for the nerves. Needless to say, I had a choice to make in a matter of seconds: careen off the side of the road, both missing the possum and failing to pass the terrorist truck, OR slam on the breaks and begin praying to Jesus, OR give the possum the martyr's death it deserves and continue passing the renegade trucker. As soon as I saw a mini-van approaching in the not-too-distant-distance, my choice seemed clear. Somewhere between Centreville and Three Rivers, there is something that at one time resembled a possum.
On the note of animals and mortality, it would seem we are on a final deathwatch for my much-loved pet beta fish, Zeus. Since I came back from Las Vegas, he hasn't eaten a thing. This morning, I noticed that he is rather puffed up in the head and his scales don't look too healthy. Though I still can't stand the stupid thing, part of me is almost sorry that he is on the final stretch. It probably wouldn't matter too much if it weren't a gift from my grandma. Oh well. He's lived a full life, much longer than some of his peers. May his road to the great hereafter be swift and oh who am I kidding, 10 bucks says he's dead by tomorrow night. Any takers?