Why are we in such a big hurry?

Driving home from work today I came across a situation that really frustrated me. And since this blog is really part "therapy session" for me, I decided to write about it.

So, I ask you - Why are we always in such a big hurry?

It's really such a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining brightly and the birds are flying round and round. The trees are flowing in the gentle breeze. Just a peaceful day. I was driving home from work with the windows rolled down on the van and "Rascal Flatts" playing on the radio. I was in a happy place. So there I am, driving down School House Road, and I glance in the mirror behind me to find a man (well, I guess you could call him that) who was obviously very angry at my driving. Now, let me tell you . . . I am certain there are times when I am NOT a good driver. There are times when I am not as careful as I should be, or times when I am overly careful. This moment, today, was NOT one of those moments. In fact, I was driving rather perfectly (if I do say so myself.) The breeze was flowing gently in and out of the window with a number of cars in front of me following along in such an rhythmic non-threatening way, then . . . there was Mr. Nutball behind me. This man was ranting and raving, shaking his arm outside his window. IN A FIST. Seriously. At first I thought, "Oh, he must be listening to Rascal Flatts, too." But, as I've reminded you in previous posts - I'm no dummy. I paused for a moment and realized, "Oh, my goodness, he's ranting at ME."

Where in Gods earth did he think I was going to go? There were not only one, not only two, but THREE cars in front of me. We were not driving slowly . . . we were driving a bit OVER the speedlimit, actually. And he wasn't happy with that - at all. I waved my hand outside of the car window as if to say, "Hey, where do you want me to go?" This was not received well. He zoomed out into the middle turn lane and I found myself face to face with Mr. Nutball. He slowed down for a brief moment as if to say, "Nah nah na na na" to me. Then accelerated ahead of me (all in the middle turn lane . . . where are the police when you need them? Probably giving a ticket to a nice lady who is on her way scrapbooking. Oh, that's another story for another time.) Mr. Nutball then proceeded to pass me, the car in front of me, and the car in front of the car in front of me.

What's funny is that we all ended up at the same stop sign at Francis and School House. And I ended up right next to Mr. Nutball (he was turning right, I was turning left.)

I didn't turn to look at his face. I was angry that he interrupted my happy place. And I didn't want to show that his attitude got the best of me. I turned up my Rascal Flatts, took a deep breath in, and suddenly remembered my post from yesterday (on being late.)

I'm going to give Mr. Nutball a break and assume that he was late for something very important.

And me? I'm home now, and finding my happy place, again.