Let me tell you a story about my morning, the morning I very nearly hit work...
I was rushing into work this morning, rushing in as I do every morning. Gotta hurry up so I can be miserable. I rush in every morning because when I'm at home I have only one speed - 87 years old. I move like an 87 year old. The alarm goes off and I'm 90. I pound the snooze bar that goes off in the shortest ten minutes ever recorded. I turn off the alarm and get out and I'm 89 and I stagger to the bathroom. I brush my teeth and try to will my eyes slightly more opened and I step carefully into the shower. I step carefully because I remember the last time I tripped over that raised side around the shower; once I forget it, I'll do it again. I step in and turn on the water and I'm 88. I take my shower, allowing extra time for the shower to pound my shoulders, a feeling close to heaven, and I step out. I get dressed, grab some breakfast, sit down on the sofa to eat it and I'm 87.
... It's about this time that I realize I'm running terribly late. So, my 87 year old body hurries as fast as it can and gets to the car. Once I'm in the car, once I don't have to walk around, don't have to get up, don't have to do anything but drive, I can close my eyes and speed towards work and it's about that time that time retreats and I'm 38 again... and I'm wishing it would retreat just a bit more for crying out loud.
I drive as fast as I can to work. This is usually about ten miles an hour since I'm on the freeway. I exit the freeway and I take the route from there and I pull into work. All this time from the freeway, I'm trying to win back some time so I won't be late. I whip into the parking lot and zip into an empty spot.
This morning as I did this, I realized I was zipping extra fast and I put on my brakes and stopped - just short of the building - and angel's wing short of the building - any closer and I split atoms - any closer and I start a chain reaction that could destroy the world. Just think what a reputation that would bring!
My heart leaps in my chest and I realize how close I came to actually hitting the building, actually running my car into my place of employment. I don't think about how lucky I was not to. I don't think about how I shouldn't drive so fast into the lot. I don't think about the last time the brakes on my car failed me and how that should have taught me a lesson. I think, instead, "Honestly, Ken. What would you say to someone if you had done that?"
Who put that there?!
The building just pulled out in front of me!
I park in the same spot every day - someone moved the building!
I get out of my car and I look at the space between it and the building and I think, "Moron."