You will not believe what happened to me yesterday: I left the house for work at 8:00 and made an easy left onto Warner Road. Two minutes later, driving west, I saw a golden retriever (off leash) run into the road heading straight for me. I braked, and felt the loud thud of the dog hitting my right side door. Panicked, I pulled off onto the nearest side street, grabbed my phone (to call someone to help me get the dog to a vet), and ran towards the site of impact.
I scanned the five-lane road. No dog. I ran to the canal path where the dog had run from. No dog. I flagged down an elderly woman on a bicycle. I was shaking and trying not to cry and explained what happened. She pointed to three women walking north and away with a golden retriever and said, “It looks like it’s okay. ”
Well. The dog could certainly NOT be okay. I wondered if the women even saw their dog get hit? It felt like so much bad karma to leave without talking to the owners, so I got back in my car and drove down the residential street that runs parallel to the canal, but I could not find them. At this point I was shaking so much that I could barely call my school to tell them I would be late. I drove the 20 minutes to school dripping tears, wondering if that beautiful dog was okay and wondering if there was something I could have done differently. One might say I overreacted, but I live in a city where we do not run over live animals on the roads on the reg. I posted about it on the Nextdoor website, saying if the dog had been on a leash, that never would have happened. It kinda ruined my day . . . and the dog’s.
So add a dog hitting my car to the list of awkward things in my life. Let’s just say I feel like my life needs a good shake or two, sort of like a snow globe with all the glitter stuck in one corner. I’m listening and waiting not-so-patiently for the message the Universe is trying to deliver. Everyone and everything is just a little bit off—and it’s not even a full moon. Everything seems to take a little bit more effort, especially at school. Today I asked my students, “Did you have coffee before school?” Everybody’s crying or mad, or is handing out some kind of damage. And it’s not just the students . . . I get home from work and my kids are angsty. William is having weird stomach pain and anxiety (appointments are scheduled), and Eve is having terrible luck finding a good summer job. She deals with the stress by sewing and crafting all over our kitchen. I find it admirable that she works out her worries by making something new (I’ve always dealt with stress by administering the appropriate number of cocktails), but I must say, it IS messy. Bits of thread and fabric on the floor, the sewing machine perched prominently on the kitchen table for days on end. Nobody is helping with the cleaning, and our house looks like a bomb went off.
99% of the time I can turn lemons into lemonade, and today was no different. I mean, it’s my job to make sure I’m happy, not anyone else’s. I made a plan to meet gal pals for a beer after work (laughing with friends is my favorite thing). I smiled at my students all day and when one little guy asked for a hug, he randomly looked at my feet and said, “I like your shoes. And I need to poop.”
Maybe I’m just making things too complicated. I need to take that little guy’s attitude—just say nice things to people and remember to poop.