Throwing Rocks at Life

On my way to work earlier this week, I suffered the joy of traveling 20 miles per hour behind an 18 wheeler. The driver was searching for the correct place to turn left (he kept his left blinker on the entire way--I suppose that was easier for him). He would stop at EVERY plant entrance where workers were congregated to ask if that was where he was supposed to be. It lasted about 10 miles and 1 million years.

Of course, I was 5 minutes late for work. I hate that. No one wants to hear about that truck or the fact that the road was winding, with LOTS of passing cars so there was no way around.

When I finally got to work, there was little room left on the gravel parking lot provided. I had a distinct urge to throw those rocks.

With the traffic building for the holidays in an already overcrowded city (it took me 2 hours to get home last night) and family get-togethers looming ALL weekend, someone better hide ALL the rocks.


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