My little Biorhythm Destruction Experiment is now over -- as far as I know -- and what an interesting end it has had.
Friday, I learned I'd been working from an older version of the schedule and should have been coming in at 3:00 (a.m or p.m., depending) instead of 3:30 the whole time; this should be a no harm-no foul issue but could in fact bite me if someone with an office decides I need bit. Swell.
Also Friday, I got to do something I really dislike: drive on the freeway, mostly the off- and on-ramp-heavy, not-a-whole-loop of the inner Collusion Of Interstates. In an unfamiliar vehicle. At night. Now, these are all things I can do and it wasn't a huge long trip, fifteen miles to drop a guy off at his much bigger truck and fifteen miles back. There are plenty of streetlights to make up for my iffy night vision and my awareness of the limited visual field caused by eyeglasses correction for extreme nearsightedness helps me "keep my head on a swivel," trying to compensate. Even the "unfamiliar vehicle" is nice little sport-utility, well-maintained and almost unbelievably zippy compared to my elderly Hyundai Accent. The trouble is that none of these things get me to liking it, nor do they lessen the intensity of my grip on the steering wheel. After a quarter-hour or so, I have to keep reminding myself to periodically unpeel my whitened knuckles from the wheel one hand at a time and shake to restore circulation. I keep flinching -- but only in my shoulders! -- when some car merges in from the thicket of construction cones on an on-ramp I'd overlooked.
It's not even any help reminding myself that it's as nothing compared to making the drive from Knoxville, TN at the wheel of a U-Haul box truck filled with (among other things) a whole lot of guns, towing a BMW convertible and sharing the cab with a slightly worried Tamara and two extremely fretful cats.
A good long sleep with a hotpad under my back has helped.
And on that note, I go to ponder maybe a little more breakfast and a lot more yard work, overlooked these six-and-a-half days.
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago