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  December 18, 1999
Driving Paranoia

Cycle 3, Day 5
Temp: 97.2
Cervical Mucus: Spotting
Cervix: Low, closed, firm

 
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richmond@kjsl.com
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Eric is back! I was really concerned about his drive from the Detroit airport to here last night; it was pretty snowy, and I passed one accident near our apartment on my way home from work. Plus, he was driving a company van, which is still unfamiliar to him. Luckily, he made it home safe and sound. And yes, I was probably a bit paranoid for no reason. I've hated driving in the snow ever since I managed to flip my car a few years ago.

It was the week after Eric proposed to me, and I had spent the week with his family in southern West Virginia. The day I was supposed to drive to my family's house in Maryland, my Dad woke me up with a phone call, saying, "Get on the road! A storm's coming!" I quickly got ready and took off. Eerily enough, the last thing Eric said to me as I pulled away was, "Give me a call when you get there, so I know if I have to go shopping for a new fiancee."

By about halfway there, I was feeling rather cheated; there was no snow falling, only a bit of rain. Suddenly, I must have crossed a county line between one county which had taken care of its roads and one that hadn't because there was the ice. I started sliding sideways, and a little voice in my head started saying, "Calm down and don't slam on the brakes. Pump them, pump them." Then I was coasting backwards along the side of the road, thinking, "Well, that was effective." And then I was on my roof, still sliding.

By the time I stopped, every window in the car had shattered except the one next to me, and the car was wedged in a small ditch between the road and the hill next to it. I couldn't open my door, I couldn't get my seatbelt off, and I smelled gasoline everywhere. A family stopped almost immediately, and they tried to help but couldn't get to me. Finally, I got the belt off, rolled down the window, and crawled out.

I didn't really start to panic until I got a good look at the car and realized exactly what I had just survived. Everyone was stunned that I was alive, let alone walking around with cuts and scratches. I still get nightmares about what could have happened. What if I had been in traffic? What if there'd been a telephone pole beside the road? What if my seatbelt had broken? Would I have suffered, or would it have been a sharp cut-off, like turning off the television?

It wasn't a good day for my mother. When she took the phone call from me, she had just gotten home from the doctor's with a diagnosis of malignant melanoma. Thankfully, we're both okay. Mom jokes that she got hurt worse that I did trying to untangle the basket of laundry I was bringing home; it had been dragged through broken glass and gasoline.

The kicker is that the junkyard sold my car to a high school for a Prom Promise car; you know, the kind they display in front of high schools around Prom season as a drunk driving lesson. I'm insulted on so many levels.

Tomorrow is the four year anniversary of that accident. Each winter has gotten a little bit better; the first winter after it, I actually went into hysterics one night riding home in a car with Eric and his roommate. They had to pull over and calm me down, or else I probably would have jumped out of the car rather than go down the hill we were facing. So, while I am a little paranoid about Eric driving in the snow, I'm still healing.


Came across Samantha's entry for the Paper Souls collaboration, and it made me chuckle. We have carnivorous guinea pigs, too, and Eric had an incident with one of them rather similar to Samantha's. Only it wasn't Eric's nose that Oriana bit. He had her on his chest, and he started to doze off. I guess she didn't like the idea of having to spend the night on his chest, because she nudged his robe to the side and fastened her little maws around his nipple. You never heard someone yell so much over a little love bite! [wink]

Of course, Oriana's on my bad side right now because she peed on my leg yesterday right before I had to leave for work. From the smug look on her face, I could have sworn she did it on purpose.



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