Mr. Cellophane

In a location adjacent to a place in a city of some significance, what comes out of my head is plastered on the walls of this blog.

Wednesday, December 05, 2012

(I really wish I could update this blog in better circumstances.)

All I wanted to do was go home last night. That's all. Not an unreasonable request. I was waiting at a red light, only a few blocks from my house. Out of nowhere, SLAM! Some idiot runs right into me. Needless to say, my reaction was like Sgt. Al Powell's when he got the dead body on his car.

I pull over to the side of the road, as best as I can. The police arrived and took statements from me and the aggressor. I'm encouraged to go to the hospital to see if I'm injured. I call my parents, who take my car home and take me to the hospital.

It's a long sit from the time I arrive to the time they call me back to be examined. (thankfully, someone gets the channel changed from HGTV to The Green Mile on AMC. Never seen it, before. Not bad, so far.) All the while, I'm worried about missing work the next day.

I'm called back and I explain what happened. I'm given medicine to cope with the pain in my neck. I'm upset about the whole thing: what happened to my car, missing work (and the cash that goes with it) and that the fucking moron who hit me wasn't watching what he was doing.

I want nothing more than to put this whole mess behind me, but I know that that won't be easy.

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