It Could Only Happen To Me – Part Three

Wednesday morning, I lit out of Florida at the butt crack of dawn.  I ran into a little traffic in Daytona Beach but it didn’t cause much of a delay.  I saw a few mangled street signs on the ground but other than that, there wasn’t much evidence that a hurricane had just blown through.

Traffic came to a dead stop when I got to Jacksonville….bumper to bumper dead stop.  Again, there were a few bent signs but it actually looked pretty good.  Obviously, I had run into morning rush hour traffic.

I made it through Jacksonville and just outside the Florida border, every pokey-doodle in the country was parked in the fast lane, looking for bird nests or squirrels or something.  I almost went out of my mind.  There were tons of downed trees laying on the side of the road, so maybe those people were trying to survey how many critters’ nests had been destroyed by the hurricane.  Maybe they were looking for loose change.  Who the hell knows?

Next, it was the big rigs….unapologetically driving in the fast lane…taking their time.  Maybe the signs that said “no trucks in left lane” had blown down or something.

My children always complained about how slow I drove.  If the speed limit was 60, I went 60.  They said “you’re supposed to keep up with traffic.”  If everybody else is driving 90, I’m supposed to drive 90?  If everybody on the road drives off a bridge, I’m supposed to drive off as well?

But, they would be proud.  I wanted to get home and in my mind, I reasoned “well, if all the tolls were suspended, then all speeding tickets would be suspended too.”
It was time to spit and git it.  (For any of you who might have been out on 95, that shiny silver bullet that flew by you…was me.)

I made it to the neighborhood and decided to pull up to the side of my house instead of parking in the garage.  My garage is on my other lot and I didn’t want to drag suitcases across the yard.  I went around the horseshoe and thought “I’ll see if my bird bath is still up.”  I drove by the front of my house and…for crying out loud!  The top of my bird bath was once again, on the ground.  Unbelievable!

After I got everything hauled inside and parked my car, I went around to look at the bird bath.  There the top lay.  No divot in the ground and it wasn’t broken.  I asked my neighbor if she had noticed and she said “I sure did and it explains something.”  When I asked her what, she said that she had heard voices a couple of nights ago.

For any engineers out there, if you can tell me how an animal could tip a 65 pound concrete top off of the base and have it land upside down, that far away without leaving a mark….I will concede my suspicions.

I hadn’t been able to check my blog very often, since we had no power.  I could reply to some comments but when I tried to read blogs, my phone went back to my wallpaper.  It made me so mad that I slammed my phone down and cracked the glass protector.  (I was stressed.)

Anyway, when I got back home, I checked my blog and discovered that the last three posts had been rated “poor.”  Wah.  Why would a post about being stranded in Florida in the middle of a hurricane warrant a “poor” rating?  Somebody didn’t like my post about “triggers.”  It was rated “poor.”  The post about the bird bath was rated “poor.”

So, this is to the troll.

Again, if you think I’m going to remove that option from my posts….or remove the actual posts….you are living in fantasy land.  You obviously haven’t “grown a set” so you continue to be a candy-ass and hide behind anonymity.  You can always comment and say something like…..”fuck you and your hurricanes and your triggers and your bird bath.”  OR…you can move onto another post that you can rate as excellent.

I survived almost an entire lifetime with a spineless, yellow-bellied, lily-livered, gutless coward.  Bring it on.  I can take it.